Dragon's Pass
by Gabion
Summary: "Gone away, gone ahead..." A single Weyr could not hope to cover the whole planet, but the new Weyrleader is doing his best against the odds. What happens when the expected Ninth Pass does not happen?
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Pern, or its wonderful dragons, they belong to Anne McCaffrey. I think of the canon writing as a drystone wall marching across the landscape of fantasy, and we the fan fiction writers are busily filling in the spaces between the stones.

I have used the Pern timeline by starting the Eighth Interval at 1.1.1, but my dates run _ .Turn_.

Danette of suggested we might like to know what happened at the start of what should have been the Ninth Pass and wasn't. I stretched the story a little by imagining Benden's Weyrleader was entrusted with the secret, to be passed on to successive generations.

But what happens when the chain is broken, and the new Weyrleader, close to the end of the Interval, has to wrestle with only a minimal Weyr to guard the whole planet? Who does he turn to, who does he rely on, and what is the reaction of the Holders and Craftmasters when their prejudices are confirmed?

3.8.195

H'ric opened his eyes and stared at the plastered wall by his face as he surfaced from a dream laden sleep. He felt sticky and damp, and his mouth was as dry as Igen's deserts.

He looked blearily around the weyr and decided it wasn't his own. He did not have curtains. Nor did he have slippery bedding that rumpled and bunched under his naked hip.

"_Klah_," said a voice in his ear, and H'ric jerked around on the bed and stared in wild confusion at the woman standing by it.

She was fully dressed in a sumptuous green gown, her hair was combed and braided, she wore jewellery, and she offered him the pottery mug of steaming drink.

H'ric propped himself on one elbow, feeling a fresh set of aches and pains start up. He reached for the mug and drank half the _klah_ down in one swallow. It was just warm enough to soothe his roiled stomach but not hot enough to scorch his throat, in fact it was just as he liked to drink it.

He blinked up at the woman, and realised who she was.

"Jiverny? Weyrwoman? Where - is this - what happened?"

The tall woman did not move as she watched him drink the rest of the _klah_.

"Don't you remember?" she asked at last.

"Yes," H'ric said reluctantly. "Haveneth rose?"

"She did. And Galanath mated her."

H'ric stared up at her, wincing from the coolness of her voice.

"What about - what about Verenth? I mean - he's a lot bigger and older than Galanath. Everyone thought - oh - shells - "

"Yes. Quite. I suggest you go and bathe yourself, Weyrleader, and get dressed. I had a drudge bring some fresh clothes from your old weyr."

She turned and whisked out of the bedspace, and H'ric put the mug down on the floor with care because he found he was shaking with a mixture of apprehension and exultation, and his mind reached to his dragon.

_- you are awake?_

"Yes. Shells, Galanath, how did you manage that? Did you mean to do it?"

_- of course I did, I am much cleverer than Verenth, as you are much cleverer than his rider, and there will be a Queen egg, Haveneth tells me_

H'ric groaned and sat up, realising he had been showing his entire naked body to Jiverny, who was, he thought with another tremor of apprehension, his weyrmate, and the woman with whom he must run Benden Weyr, untried and inexperienced as he was.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own the marvellous world of Pern, but I do like to write about it.

To clear up any confusion, this story is set 200 Turns after the Oldtimers went forward, so the dragonriders are expecting the Ninth Pass, which of course we know from canon did not happen.

Thank you to everyone who has followed and favourited my stories, and I do appreciate your reviews and responses.

3.8.195

After a bath and a shave, finding his own shaving kit in the bathing room, H'ric dressed himself and came out of the sleeping quarters. This was the Weyrwoman's quarters, he realised, but they were linked with the quarters he would use as Weyrleader.

He came out into the main rooms and looked around. There was no sign of any disturbance in here, the floor was swept, the walls and furniture cleaned, and Jiverny was standing watching him. She was at least a foot taller than him, but she was a slender, almost gaunt, figure in her green gown.

He gave her a formal bow to which she responded, indicating the food on the table.

"You should eat, Weyrleader."

"That's not confirmed, is it?" he asked doubtfully.

"Your bronze dragon mated the Queen. You are Weyrleader," she said with matter of fact calm. "Sit down."

He did so. She was at least ten years older than him, already the Weyrwoman, a remote figure when he had Impressed and grown up into the Wingleader he had been until last night.

"Galanath says he thinks there will be a Queen egg," he offered as he ate.

"Yes, so Haveneth says also. That will make four junior goldriders in the Weyr. Not too many if the Red Star is approaching."

H'ric looked up at her.

"That's - an odd way of putting it," he said. "If the Red Star is approaching - so nearly at the end of the Interval, the Red Star should be upon us all too soon."

"And Benden is the sole Weyr to overfly the entire planet," she replied.

H'ric wished she would sit down, but he was not going to suggest it to her. He was still trying to grapple with the enormity of what Galanath had done. R'tin had been Weyrleader for ten Turns, but a half Turn ago he had been killed in an accident and Teneth, maddened with grief, had taken his rider's body and gone _between_ for all time. The entire Weyr had been waiting for Haveneth to rise again in a mating flight, and in that time Vereneth's rider C'lin, the senior Wingleader of Benden, had been acting Weyrleader.

"Four gold dragons could begin a line of dragons at other Weyrs," H'ric offered as he finished his meal and tidied his place. "There's spare capacity in each Wing to begin a new line?"

"It depends how many Turns we have before the Red Star is bracketed in the Eye Stone," Jiverny said. "Or not. Have you finished?"

"Thank you, yes. I suppose I'd better meet with the Wingleaders."

"I think you had better do so, yes. The entire Weyr is agog with the news, of course."

H'ric stood up and indicated the weyr they were in.

"I'll need to transfer from my old weyr. Jiverny - Lady - this is - not what either of us expected - but we must work together."

She nodded, her expression still cool and remote.

"I am aware of it, Weyrleader. You will not find me undermining your position, however - unexpected - it is."

"Nor will I undermine yours. Thank you. After you, Lady."

They came out of the weyr and into the Council room. The day was well advanced, H'ric realised, and the life of Benden Weyr was going on out there, weyrlings and young riders training, older dragonriders exercising, kitchen staff preparing the evening meal.

The Wingleaders, the bronze riders, whose dragons had all risen to try and mate the gold, were seated at the table in the Council room. H'ric looked around at them, trying to see what their reaction was to his totally unexpected promotion, but they were politely standing and bowing to him, and he gestured them to sit down. Someone would have to be given the leadership of R'tin's Wing, and he might need C'lin's advice on that.

"I have the day's duties of all the wings here, Weyrleader," C'lin said, extending a written list. "The weyrlings are on rest day after the - emotions - of yesterday."

"Thank you, Wingleader. Were there any injuries yesterday?"

They shook their heads. H'ric tried to remember anything about that fantastic flight and found he could not, beyond the sheer sensations of power, the uplift of air under his wings, and the cunning of the gold dragon. He shook his head and scanned the lists, and handed them back to C'lin.

"Thank you, that seems appropriate. What about feeding? Presumably the stock is scattered all across the feeding grounds?"

"We've herdsmen out there gathering them and checking them over," M'ris said. "It takes a while for them to come back to condition after a mating flight, but most of the dragons are well fed at the moment."

"What about quarterly tithes from the Lord Holders? They must be due soon?"

"Benden's is always first, and should be any time in the next four sevendays," Jiverny put in. "I understand the Lord Holder of Benden is holding a Gather as well, before he sends the tithe."

H'ric held back the cheer he would normally have uttered. He loved a Gather, and had been known to slip away from the Weyr to attend them, leaving Galanath some distance away before walking in to drink and dance and snatch a kiss from the girls. He caught the speculative glance of his Wingsecond, B'rnel, rider of brown Tweneth, and looked away, unwilling to make any commitment from his old life into this new one.

The Wingleaders were standing up and leaving, and H'ric stared at the list of duties in his hand. He looked across at Jiverny who was still seated in her place at the opposite end of the table.

"C'lin expected to be Weyrleader," he said slowly.

"Yes."

"Did you expect it?"

Jiverny shrugged as she came around the table to look at the list. She pointed to the gap where R'tin's name should be.

"Who are you going to promote to lead that wing?"

"I don't know yet. I mean, I know all the other bronze riders, whether they're Wingleaders or not, but it might be an ideal time to do a bit of moving around. Shift some of these younger riders into the more senior wings where they can get better experience."

"Experience of what?"

"Practising with firestone. We haven't done that in at least two Turns."

"The holders take a dim view of that practice. You must have conferenced with - R'tin - about it?"

H'ric nodded. "I know. But there must be uninhabited places in Pern? Even after the expansion of holders - too rapid expansion in some places - over two hundred Turns, surely we can find a place?"

"The empty Weyrs?"

H'ric glanced across at the map of the northern continent displayed on the wall, and nodded in agreement.

"I hadn't made the connection. I want to send groups out to the other Weyrs as well, in case we need to repopulate them. Riders need to see the landmarks and fix them with their dragons. And with new weyrlings after the hatching to come, some of the older ones must take their place in the wings. "

"The Lord Holders don't like dragons overflying their lands, you know."

"I do know, yes."

"Hence the furtive trips to Gathers?"

H'ric looked up sharply, and wondered if she was laughing. If so, she was not showing any outward amusement.

"In part. We can navigate by the stars to the Weyrs if need be, and no one will be disturbed. I'd better write to the Lord Holders anyway, and tell them there's been a change."

"Yes, you need to do that, and especially to Lord Holder Arun of Benden. Have you ever been to the abandoned Weyrs?"

"No. I was brought up as a fosterling here in Benden, my birth parents died in a mining accident in Crom. There happened to be a dragon rider handy, and he brought me back with him, and fostered me out."

Jiverny had been contemplating the map, but now turned and looked at him.

"I didn't know that. I assumed Mima was your natural mother. You certainly fitted in with those brawling brats of hers!"

"Thanks. I was destined to go down the mines, but the rider discovered I could speak to his dragon."

"Who was he? Why didn't he foster you himself, it's not unknown for a dragon rider to do that?"

H'ric looked at the list in his hand.

"It was R'tin," he said. "Teneth was the first dragon I ever spoke to, and I was the last person he spoke to before he went _between_ with R'tin's body."


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Pern or the dragons, but I like to tinker at the edges!

Thank you for your reviews, and yes, Teneth might have said something before going between. He didn't, so the Weyrleader will have to struggle on with what he has before him. I also worried about the empty Weyrs and how Benden kept their numbers down during the interval, but hopefully I can explain that.

3.8.191

H'ric went into the Records room after he had studied the lists C'lin had handed him. He knew Jiverny, as Weyrwoman, kept the Records up to date, but he wanted to look through them to enable him to speak with some authority on the history of Benden.

He had learnt the basic timeline as a weyrling, as they all had, but he was looking for specific information about the change between the Eighth Pass and the Eighth Interval, as they looked forward to the Ninth Pass.

He found lists of names and lists of dragons, but very little else. Yet there should have been something more, because at the end of the last Pass, all the Weyrs, except for Benden, had been abandoned. H'ric sometimes wondered if there had been a dragon-specific plague, and all the survivors had come to Benden, but there was no hint of that. Or perhaps the riders had been struck down and the maddened dragons had gone _between_, but again there was no hint of that. One day the Weyrs had been full, the next they had been empty.

He looked up at a tap on the door and called an entry, and B'rnel came in, looking around at the hides and parchments on the table.

"Hullo. Can I come in?"

H'ric indicated a chair, smiling at his Wingsecond who was also his closest friend.

"Sit down."

B'rnel did so, easing himself onto a chair and picking up the hide in front of him, scanning it and reading aloud.

"_Gone away, gone ahead, echoes roll unansweréd. Empty, open, dusty, dead. Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?_"

"I was looking to see if there was any reason for their disappearance," H'ric said by way of explanation of the open scrolls. "The Red Star will be bracketed in the Eye Rock, if our information is correct, and we, the few hundred dragons of Benden, will have to overfly the whole planet."

"Perhaps those riders thought Thread would never return? That they had conquered it for all time?"

H'ric stared at him.

"Why would they think that? There's no hint in the Benden Weyr records of that conclusion, and you'd think the Weyrleaders would conference about it!"

"Well yes, you'd hope so, but don't forget it was two hundred or so Turns ago. Who's to say all the records were kept, or copied correctly?"

"You mean the riders might have taken their records?"

B'rnel shrugged. "It's possible, if they didn't want them falling into the hands of the Holders. Either that or they burned them all. Either way, it was remarkably short-sighted, seeing they abandoned Benden."

H'ric picked up a record he had been reading.

"There's absolutely no hint here of anything untoward! One day the Weyrwoman records a welcome gift of salt fish from Nerat, the next day she records that all the Weyrs are abandoned! With no comment!"

"I doubt if there was any comment to make," B'rnel responded with a rueful smile. "What would you have put? And those records you're holding are in a poor state as well."

H'ric frowned at the records. "These are very worn and dilapidated," he conceded. "None of the Lady Jiverny's fault, but as you say, two hundred Turns or more -"

"I thought the Craft Masters would have better quality parchment and hides by now," B'rnel said, pushing at the crumbling edge of a hide. "Look at this. A letter from a Lord Holder complaining about the level of tithe two hundred Turns before us, and it might be a thousand Turns by the state of this hide!"

"I know. And the level of tithes back then were - handsome."

B'rnel looked across at him.

"They had to sustain a fighting Weyr with no time to grow anything at all for itself," he said. "We've spread our Crafters out and farmed some of our land, haven't we?"

H'ric nodded.

"We have. But we're going to be reliant on tithes again for a long time. All our lifetimes."

The two young men stared soberly at each other and B'rnel indicated the area they were in.

"Are you moving into the Weyrleader's quarters?"

"Yes. What else can I do?"

B'rnel shrugged. "Nothing at all, about that. I've never seen a flight like that one, I can tell you, and I've seen as many as you have."

"More than I have, since I didn't get here until I was twelve Turns old."

They fell silent, recalling their youth. B'rnel was Mima's birth son, and he had been the one who had been detailed to take the young miner's boy into his care when he arrived, bewildered and totally disorientated. They had spent the last thirteen Turns brawling together, and now H'ric was Weyrleader.

"Mima asked about you," B'rnel said. "Wanted to make sure you weren't - injured - in that - all that - yesterday?"

H'ric shook his head. "I'm all right, but I'll come down and speak to her. I'm writing to the Lord Holders, I'll want to send a dragonrider out to the three Holds we look after, first."

"D'you want me to arrange that?"

"Would you?"

"I'm still your Wingsecond, until you say different," B'rnel replied. "Has C'lin suggested anything different?"

"No. He gave me the duty lists - he's probably made those up to the end of the Turn, he's so thorough. I want to move some of the riders around."

B'rnel nodded. "Makes sense. D'you want me to come and help you sort your quarters?"

"I didn't ask the Weyrwoman if she'd cleared R'tin's things. I suppose she must have done."

B'rnel reached and squeezed H'ric's shoulder in mute sympathy. It was to B'rnel that H'ric had brought his grief at the death of the man he had thought of as a second father. R'tin had not been a demonstrative man, but he had always given a present to H'ric at the Turnover celebrations, and he had been strongly supportive of the boy at every Hatching until he Impressed Galanath at the relatively late age of 15.

The two young men tidied the scrolls and hides, rolling and securing them and putting them away, and then crossed to H'ric's old quarters. H'ric ran down to the kitchen quarters to speak to his foster mother Mima, assure her he was all right, accept some of her headache remedy, and agree with her he would be at the evening meal in the seat of the Weyrleader.

"Don't seem possible. But then R'tin, bless him, always said there was something more in you than just a miner's brat. Here - take this."

H'ric accepted the fruit pie and made his way back to his old weyr, smiling and shaking his head. He was sure that B'rnel was Mima's natural child, but he doubted if any other of the children who claimed her as a mother were such. Her large and loving spirit would take in any orphaned child, and she had nursed many an injured rider back to health as well. She would be invaluable during the Pass, he thought, and realised he was thinking as a Weyrleader already, weighing up the people of the Weyr, and finding places they would fit.

"I thought she'd give you that remedy," B'rnel said with a grin. "I've put your clothes into this chest - is that right?"

"Yes. That was my father's tool chest. I've clothes at the laundry, but they'll find their way to my new quarters. This fur is mine, but the rest of the bedding can stay. It'll need washing."

"I'll see it goes down to the laundry."

"Thanks. Flying gear - and these harnesses I was working on. This folder."

"What's that? Your sketches?"

"Yes. I expect the Weyrwoman threw out the ones I gave to R'tin at Turnover."

"No reason why she should have done that, surely?"

H'ric shrugged, and B'rnel did not press him.

"I've summoned Tweneth - he can fly us across the bowl."

The large brown dragon had perched on the ledge outside, and twisted his head to sniff at the bundles being secured to his back.

"Nosy!" B'rnel said with a grin. They climbed up onto Tweneth's back, holding onto the straps securing the bundles, and the brown dragon launched off the ledge, flapped twice, and was back on the ledge near the Weyrleader's quarters. H'ric unloaded, and B'rnel left him there, going to his own duties. H'ric watched him go.

- _he is nice and he makes you feel good_

H'ric started at the rich tones of the voice in his mind, and looked at the two dragons on the Queen's ledge. Haveneth was looking directly at him, her eyes whirling in green contentment.

"Thank you. I have known him a long time," he said aloud.

Haveneth put her head down again on Galanath's side, and H'ric began taking his bundles into the weyr. He had not been in here since R'tin's untimely death, and on very few occasions before that, but he saw that it had been renovated for a new Weyrleader.

The Weyr had been freshly plastered and painted, the floor was swept clean. H'ric found a table and upholstered chair, and in the bedding area the bed was a generous size, with new bedding folded neatly on it. Jiverny had been expecting a new mate, he realised, and had made sure the Weyrleader's quarters were ready for occupancy.

As he was putting things away, the Weyrwoman appeared from her own weyr.

"Is this satisfactory?"

"Thank you, yes."

"I found these amongst R'tin's belongings. You must have given them to him over the Turns, and he kept them, although I never saw them on the walls."

She handed over a bundle, and H'ric found the little gifts he had given to R'tin, the sketches and the carved wooden ornaments he had made.

"You have quite a gift in your hands, Weyrleader," Jiverny commented. "If you are sending people to the abandoned Weyrs, I suggest you go with them and draw them for future reference."

"That's a good idea. Yes."

"Did you find any clue in the Records about the abandoned Weyrs?"

"Nothing at all. Did R'tin say anything about it? Or L'vin? He was Weyrleader once, wasn't he?"

"Yes he was. He was nearly ninety when he died, long past his time as Weyrleader, and R'tin said - " she frowned, took a pace or two, and swung to face him again. "R'tin said L'vin had passed on the knowledge before his death, and he would do the same before he himself died."

"But he died unexpectedly? Was it written down anywhere, this knowledge? Knowledge of what?"

"I always assumed it was the answer to the abandonment. R'tin said he had written it down, but when I said it should be in the Records, he said the Benden Weyrleader always carried it on his person, and passed it on before his death, to the rider who was Weyrleader then."

They stared at each other.

"And Teneth picked up R'tin's body and took them both _between_ for all time," H'ric said. "If R'tin carried the knowledge in his head or written down and kept on his person, it's gone. The chain is broken."


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own the dragons, as I sadly have to acknowledge, but their world lives on.

There's a lot to cram into a very short timeline in these opening chapters, but hang in there, I'm sure we'll get to the exciting bits very shortly! Thanks again for your reviews and speculations on the way the story might develop.

3.8.191

H'ric attended his first meal as Weyrleader in the best clothing he possessed. Jiverny had shaken her head and taken his measurements, because none of R'tin's clothes fitted, and there was no time as yet to make new or to alter the garments Jiverny considered worth keeping.

So now H'ric combed his hair carefully, inspected himself as best he could by peering at himself, and prepared to make his way down to the dining hall.

Galanath, finally awake, said he was not hungry yet, and that the new ledge was bigger and more comfortable than the old one, but he would appreciate some fine sand if it could be found.

Thinking of that, H'ric thought of Ista Weyr, on the hot sands of the island of Ista. He had never been there, but the Records had mentioned dragons and their riders recuperating there from Threaded injuries. There would be an abundance of sand on those hot southern beaches, he was sure.

- _I know the way, I have been there_

"Haveneth? Why were you there?"

- _I don't remember why but I do remember the hot sands_

"I'll ask Jiverny."

"Ask me what?"

H'ric jumped at the sound of the Weyrwoman's voice, aware he was not yet used to sharing part of his life with someone else.

"Ista Island, for the fine sand Galanath claims he needs."

"We've been used to getting the shelly sand from the beaches on the coast to the east of us. But I agree, Ista sand is finer. Haveneth knows of it, because I came from that part of the southern coast, and I could give her a picture of the island."

"Did you visit the Weyr? After you, Lady."

They made their way down and across the bowl which was now in deep shadow as the last of the daylight faded.

"No, I didn't go there, but as I say, I have the picture of the island in my mind. Does Haveneth speak to you? R'tin always complained she would never speak to him."

"I think R'tin spoke only to Teneth, in the close focus riders have with their own dragon. Is it unusual, for dragons to speak to anyone other than their rider?"

Jiverny glanced at him and shrugged, making the folds of her cream dress to shimmer in the first of the lights as they entered the dining area.

"I don't know. Moreta was reputed to be able to speak to all dragons. I can only speak to Haveneth. Most riders will address the other rider as a courtesy, not speak directly to the dragon."

"I have not initiated any conversations," H'ric said stiffly. "Haveneth spoke to me first."

"I am not jealous, Weyrleader," Jiverny said mildly. "Just interested that she should speak to you. So you will make Ista your first stop after you inform the Lord Holders you will be overflying their territories?"

H'ric wondered again if that was amusement in her voice, but then they had entered the dining hall and he was fully occupied in accepting congratulations, and finding the riders looked different from this angle at the head of the table.

The food was plentiful, but H'ric noticed the lack of green vegetables, and hoped the tithe would contain those as well as the usual grain, tubers and preserved goods. Perhaps they could buy some fish at Ista to salt down for the winter.

"Who will you put in R'tin's place?" C'lin asked. "I've made a list of the bronze riders and their abilities for you."

"Thank you. I want to move some of the riders around, mix up the wings for a while and see how everyone fits together."

C'lin frowned at him.

"They're used to where they are now, Weyrleader."

"Yes, and I don't want to disrupt that, but I want everyone to be experienced enough that they can change from wing to wing if necessary under the fighting conditions of Threadfall."

C'lin shrugged. "As you say, Weyrleader."

"That's what we're about," H'ric said to him, and to the other Wingleaders who were listening. "We are here to fight Thread, which is due soon. The Red Star isn't noticeably brighter or larger yet, but we need to keep a watch on it, and track it."

"And the rest of the planet? Whilst Benden overflies the holds it protects, the rest of the planet is consumed?" L'rens called out. "How are you going to address that, in such a short time? Even if Haveneth rises every Turn, and the junior golds have clutches, it's not a long time for preparation."

"And Searching," D'vern said from his place. "There are boys in the Weyr, used to our ways, but you'll be out Searching cots and holds soon enough, and those brats might be totally unsuitable."

"I'm writing to the Lord Holders to tell them of the change in Weyrleader, and I'll inform them of the need for Searches every time there's a clutch of eggs," H'ric replied. "There're always Candidates left unpartnered when the queen rises, surely? And not all of them might go back to their homes? I stood three times before Galanath claimed me."

"That's a true word," Jiverny said from his side, in her calm voice, which he realised was the same as Haveneth's, but lighter in tone. "The Lord Holders, at least, are well aware we must Search now the Interval is coming to an end."

H'ric was grateful for her words, and he could see the Wingleaders accepting her advice, turning to each other and their Wingseconds to discuss the matter.

The meal finished with the harper journeyman playing some music, and leading the singing of some old songs, including the question song and the duty songs. They rarely had new music in the Weyr, H'ric thought, but there must always be some coming out of Harper Hall. He made a mental note that he must write to the Craft Masters as well, and thought ruefully he would be spending the next sevenday writing letters, letting his imagination picture the dragons winking in and out _between_ the Weyr and the holds and back again with letters of support and welcome.

"In your dreams, my lad," he murmured into his wine goblet and put it down almost untasted, although it was a rich Benden red.

"What?" Jiverny asked, and he smiled and told her, and she smiled back, the first time he had seen her smile, he realised.

"You really must keep that imagination of yours under control, Weyrleader," she said, and then the meal was finishing and the riders dispersing, some to change shift with the watchmen, others to go to their own weyrs. H'ric became aware of speculative looks as he and Jiverny left the hall to return to their own quarters on the other side of the bowl, past the entrance to the Hatching Grounds where Haveneth would bring out the queen egg Galanath had promised him.

They reached their quarters and H'ric went to check on Galanath, promising him sand, and came back to his own quarters. A day, he thought. I have been Weyrleader for a day, and I will remain so as long as Galanath mates with the senior queen.

- _do not fret over that, leave that to me_

"Boaster," H'ric said softly, but he already knew how determined his dragon could be, and had no doubt the bronze would continue to fly the gold as long as he was able.

Sitting on the side of the bed, H'ric wondered what the protocol was for a Weyrleader and his Lady. Should he march into Jiverny's quarters and demand to share her bed? Should he summon her to his own? Or should he do what he very much preferred at this moment, in this overwhelming time, to roll into this very comfortable bed, snuggle down, and go to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The dragons and their rides are the property of AM, but here is the latest update to the story. Thank you for your review, Starsinger, and your query of "fit" and "fitted". I used "fitted" in the past tense because that's how I was taught, through the OED. I hope no one else stumbles over too many other Britishisms!

Because of the canon assertion of the Weyrs remaining empty, there are some logical queries in this story, some of which I address, some of which I'm afraid I'm leaving alone.

12.8.191

If he did not spend quite a sevenday writing letters, H'ric certainly used up a large supply of parchment. Jiverny kept the Records, and she found him the parchment and ink, but asked that if he was writing to the Crafthalls she would appreciate more of both. After due thought H'ric added that request to the Masterharper Serellim in the distant Harper Hall at Fort Hold. He also made a list of who would take the messages, and included their harper Yorus for the trip to Harper Hall. He found time to study the lists of the wings and their leaders, and the younger riders coming through from the weyrling ranks. He made a rough table of the places he wanted overflown and memorised, and B'rnel took over the task of cross-referencing the riders to each place they knew. B'rnel agreed with H'ric that all the riders should know every Weyr and major Hold, an enterprise that would take time.

H'ric went himself to Benden Hold. Benden Hold was the major Hold in his overview, and H'ric wanted there to be no misunderstanding of the enormity of the task ahead of the Weyr and the Lord Holders this close to the end of the Interval.

He came out of _between_ over the heights and Galanath wheeled around in the sunlight, allowing it to catch on his bronze skin to give plenty of warning to the watchers on the towers below.

"Show off," H'ric said on a laugh, as his dragon took him down to a wide grassy area where H'ric had attended a Gather or two in the time before he had become a responsible Weyrleader.

_- she is right, the lady with the sad eyes, you have too much imagination_

"Sad eyes? Jiverny has sad eyes? Why d'you say that?"

- _she must see all the powerful young Weyrleaders come and go, whilst she and her dragon age together until they can no longer fly._

"Shards, Galanath, my heart, I never thought of it like that."

Much sobered, H'ric dismounted from his dragon and took off helmet and gloves, unwound his scarf and prepared to meet the deputation coming out of the Hold. There was not a scrap of grass or greenery to be seen on the buildings all around him, he noted with approval. This Lord Holder took his duties seriously, it seemed.

H'ric was conducted into the great hall of the Hold, carved halfway into the rockface, and Lord Arun came forward to greet him.

"There has been a change of Weyrleader, I surmise? And you are?"

"H'ric, rider of bronze Galanath."

"You are welcome, Weyrleader. A glass of something special to celebrate, I think? Come through to my study, I can apprise you of the tithe at the same time."

"Thank you. I wanted to speak to you face to face about the change in circumstance."

"You flew the senior gold, the dragon known as Haveneth? Will there be a new gold egg?"

"Both dragons tell us so."

Lord Arun nodded. "Then you will be wanting to Search, in due course, Weyrleader, and you may do so."

H'ric hid his surprise at such a welcoming attitude, although when he had questioned Jiverny and C'lin they had both assured him the present Lord Holder was a forward looking and generous hearted man. In the long life of a Weyr, over Intervals and Passes, the fortunes of Hold and Weyr were inextricably mingled.

"The harvest has been very good," Lord Arun said when they were both seated. "There have been some changes in the weather patterns that I am told will increase as the Red Star nears us with its dreadful cargo. But in the Turns until then, I will endeavour to build up surpluses."

"I have a plan for the Weyr to grow some small amounts of seasonal food," H'ric said. "It's not something usually done at Benden, because of being so far north, with such long cold winters. But at Crom, where I was born and raised before I was brought to Benden, there were tubs of seasoning herbs and quick salad greens grown in the summer. With the help of the Weyrwoman, I want to institute that, but of course we would welcome advice from your people."

Lord Arun made a note for himself.

"I'll send you someone with knowledge, Weyrleader. What else can I help you with?"

H'ric explained how he wanted all the dragons and their riders to be familiar with the landmarks of Benden, how he expected them to pop in and out of _between_ in small groups over the remaining Turns, and how he wanted to do the same for the abandoned Weyrs.

"This business of the abandonment is very puzzling," Lord Arun said. "I learned all my duty songs and the question song, of course, but there's another aspect - in two hundred Turns, could Benden not have repopulated all the Weyrs?"

H'ric stared at him, and Lord Arun smiled ruefully.

"Am I treading on Craft secrets, perhaps?"

"No, not at all. Er - truthfully, I don't know the answer to that question. We can weyr 600 dragons at Benden, but you know, I expect, that we have fewer than 300? The population is healthy, the queen has been wont to rise every two or three Turns, but as to spreading out - I've never seen any suggestion of it."

"And the Lord Holders would not like it," Lord Arun replied. "The three major Holds tithe correctly to you, Weyrleader, but the others give only a grudged amount, I know that. A very small portion indeed, and you will be asking for an increase?"

"I must do so, if I'm to increase the dragon strength to a fighting Weyr. It leaves little chance of allowing people in and out to grow stuff. Thread, I suppose, must close down most of the normal agriculture - except where we can flame it from the skies."

"I will warn you now, Weyrleader, at the last gathering of Lord Holders and Craft Masters, it was once again suggested that the reason there are so few dragons, is because Thread is no more."

H'ric nodded. "I understand that attitude, my lord. I would rather suggest to the Lord Holders and Craft Masters that the Weyrs left to fight Thread on another of the worlds circling our sun."

Lord Arun leaned back in his chair, shaking his head.

"That - is not something I would understand. Explain it, if you can?"

H'ric leaned forward. "We know from our oldest Records that the first men came to Pern from other worlds. They stated there were other worlds around this sun as well as our two moons - "

"Could the Weyrs have gone to fight Thread on the moons?"

"I doubt it, because they're so close to us, as close as the Red Star itself comes, at its closest approach."

Lord Arun shuddered and rubbed his face.

"The thought - that I should see Thread - that it should fall to me to marshal my forces and conserve our food and people - unnerves me."

H'ric sat up straighter. "The Weyr will protect Benden, and as much as it can of the rest of the world of Pern, Lord Holder."

"Thank you. But if the Weyrs have gone - will they return?"

"In our discussions in the Weyr it had been mooted," H'ric said, skirting carefully around the truth that those discussions had usually taken place after everyone had consumed significant quantities of Benden wine. "I know they took everything from the Weyrs with them - but then you would need to, if you landed on a distant world and knew nothing of it - but then equally they would return with more dragons and riders, and their own possessions again."

Lord Arun stared intently at him.

"This has been discussed?"

"It's been an idea around the Weyr as long as I have been there," H'ric replied. "Perhaps at first just as a suggestion, but with a close study of the Records and the Question Song, it is a possibility."

"_Gone away, gone ahead, echoes roll unansweréd. Empty, open, dusty, dead. Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?_"

H'ric nodded. "And we believe they will return. But in the meantime, we need to train up our youngsters, and conserve all we can of food and clothing and all the other things a Weyr needs."

"Fellis juice and numbweed?"

"Yes. As much of that as you can spare."

"I will speak to our Healer about it. Do you have a Healer?"

"We have a number of people who can render first aid, but I'd welcome some instruction from a proper Healer."

"I think you could call on Healer Hall for a journeyman at least," Lord Arun said at once. "A journeyman could teach your people and perhaps grow up in his craft in the Weyr? As long as you don't find he's suited to a dragon!"

H'ric laughed.

"That does happen very often," he admitted. "The dragon chooses, my lord, we do not."

"So I have heard. I would suggest you also go to Bitra and Lemos. Bitra especially, because Lord Holder Viril is a close and suspicious man, prone to seeing conspiracy theories everywhere. His tithe will of necessity be smaller than mine, but make sure you hold him to every morsel of it, Weyrleader."

"I will do so, my lord, and I thank you for your warning."

Lord Arun smiled as he stood up. "We will see each other often during this Pass, Weyrleader, and you must be sure to come to the Gather I am holding shortly, with your Lady. All the dragonriders are welcome, over the three days. Now - let me show you over the Hold, if you have time? The oldest part of the Hold - I wish I knew how the ancients carved it so wonderfully out of such hard rock!"

H'ric followed him into the rooms, making mental notes of things he would like at the Weyr that would soften the stones of his own quarters.


	6. Chapter 6

The usual disclaimer about ownership, but I do enjoy writing these stories. I must thank all my reviewers as well, and say that I am going on holiday so there may not be an update for a while.

1.10.195

H'ric and B'rnel together with a young rider M'nas and his green dragon Tirith stood on the lip of Telgar Weyr. Abandoned for nearly two hundred Turns, it was shocking to the riders to see the desolation of the place.

"It's huge," M'nas said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't realise how big it would be."

H'ric pushed his hair back, the wind instantly ruffling it back to a tangle. Up here on the heights the wind was constant, and he could see where it had weathered the rock faces.

"It was carved out during a Pass, if I decipher the Records correctly," he said, as he sat down to cut the wind, and took out his sketch book and charcoal sticks. They were seated below the Star Stones, and had already marked the location in their minds, and fixed it with their dragons. Now H'ric was quickly sketching the great bowl of the Weyr and the way the cloud mass was piled up in the sky to the north.

"You say all these Star Stones will show the Red Star at the same time?" M'nas asked.

"Not quite. They'll show the Red Star in the eye when the sun balances on top of the finger there. That means Thread is upon us. But each set of stones gives the proper alignment. At least, I think that's what the Records imply. I wish we had better material than parchment and ink. Carving the instructions on stone would take too long, but it would be better."

B'rnel nodded his agreement, because like other riders adept with the pen, he had spent time in the last month doing his share of copying work on the ancient Records.

"Look at those silly beasts," he said now.

The three dragons were exploring, wheeling and diving in and out of the abandoned weyrs. Windrow had piled up in most of the entrances, and in some more sheltered weyrs bushes had rooted and hidden the entrances. H'ric thought wild animals probably made their dens here as well. It was high, it was cold, it was desolate, but he could quarter a wing here to train.

"Who held it, back then?" M'nas asked as he also sat down. He pulled out a comb and began tidying his hair and H'ric was aware B'rnel was watching him. M'nas partnered a green, and those browns who could be bothered would sometimes outfly the blue dragons to mate with a green.

"R'mart was the Weyrleader, with bronze Branth," H'ric said. "The Weyrwoman was called Bedella and the queen was called Solth."

"And they just packed and left. I mean, they didn't just go _between_ to die, did they? Wherever they went, they took everything with them. Records, clothing, bedding, everything except the heavy furniture, which was robbed out by the locals, I suppose?"

H'ric nodded.

"When the tithing wagons came up here, I don't doubt they would have gone back with everything they could carry. I don't begrudge them. It's a cruel hard life in these northern mountains, we know that, and we're lucky Benden is still heated by the earth itself so we don't need as much in the way of fuel."

"It's a long old haul from Crom across to Benden for the Lord Holder," B'rnel agreed. "Is coal what you're expecting Telgar to tithe?"

"It would be a good gesture from them," H'ric said as he watched the dragons sporting over what must have been the feeding grounds. Windblown soil had piled up there, and it supported good grasslands now, and he was surprised no one farmed it.

"Who owns the abandoned Weyrs?" he asked abruptly.

B'rnel slanted him a glance.

"You do, I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "I mean - you're the only Weyrleader now. Why?"

"That bowl of grassland. We've many Turns, fates willing, before the Red Star comes. What's to stop us putting animals in here in the early part of each Turn, fattening them up, slaughtering them at the proper time, and preserving the meat for winter food?"

"Nothing at all, I would think, if you can get the Lord Holders to agree to such a thing."

"It would help them out, surely?" M'nas asked. "It would ease their tithe."

"That's a good reason, I might suggest it that way," H'ric replied.

"Me, I'd rather do such a thing further south - Fort Weyr must be the most advantageous, that was the first one settled," B'rnel said.

H'ric nodded as he stood up and peered down the outer side of the Weyr.

"We've been seen," he said, pointing, and B'rnel came to his side to see horsemen below them.

"Hmm. I think we'll meet them on dragonback," B'rnel said. "We're a sight too far into the wilds for my comfort."

They summoned the dragons and mounted, and came down the side of the Weyr to where the horsemen had drawn up, a half dozen of them in Telgar colours. It had been years since H'ric had seen that distinctive striped design, and he was surprised at the rush of emotions it brought out in him.

- _they are at peace_

"Yes I know," he whispered.

- _you see them still in your mind, they were good people, you remember them_

"I didn't think it would affect me like this."

Galanath dropped to the ground, folded his wings neatly and struck a pose so that H'ric could descend from his seat. The horsemen evidently knew the unsettling power of dragons, and had dismounted from their sturdy runners and walked forward.

"We don't often see dragons and their riders," the leading man said curtly. "You'd be?"

"I am H'ric, Weyrleader of Benden. My Wingsecond B'rnel and my rider M'nas. Your name?"

"I'm called Rathan, guard at Telgar Hold. You sent a letter to tell the Lord Holder of your new place, and that there would be dragons aloft. We've been out on patrol and saw the dragons, and came to check on you."

"Yes. I want every dragon and its rider to be familiar with the major Holds and Weyrs."

Rathan was studying him carefully, and H'ric did the same. A tall man, athletic, strong enough to be able to wield the sword he carried, H'ric was sure. He himself wore only his belt knife, but he was also sure Rathan knew if Galanath joined in a fight, there would be no chance.

Rathan nodded and gave a rather stiff smile.

"Then you will be going to Telgar Hold?"

"I had planned to, yes, and perhaps on to Crom."

"You speak with some accent akin to Crom."

"I was born there, and orphaned, and taken to Benden."

Rathan stared closely at him.

"Heric, son of Haranic," he said. "I thought you looked familiar! I used to be a guard at Crom when I was younger."

H'ric studied him in turn, and then shook his head.

"I'm sorry I don't recognise you, but I was taken from there at a very young age."

"You should never have been taken at all!" Rathan said on an explosion of anger. "There were plenty of mining families could have taken you in, trained you in the mining, and you'd have made a good living!"

Galanath extended his head, his eyes beginning to whirl with angry colour, and H'ric put a hand on his neck, soothing him, not looking away from Rathan.

"I could speak to dragons," he said simply. "That was why R'tin took me to the Weyr, to stand at a Hatching and Impress."

"Hmm. All right. Well, it'll take you a heart-beat, no doubt, to get to where you want. We're patrolling here because we've heard rumours of outlaws, holdless men, in the area."

"There are none in the Weyr," B'rnel said positively. "Our dragons have been exploring, and no one lives in the bowl."

"I'm not surprised. Supposed to be haunted, with lights and all sorts of strange sounds coming from it."

"Really? When?"

Rathan shrugged. "I don't know. Just rumours, perhaps, from an old uncle around the fire, but the youngsters like to build it up into terror tales. You say there's no one in the Weyr?"

"No one at all. If you like, we'll run a patrol with you aloft, and you can take a look into the woodlands? I doubt if you'd see much, though."

Rathan shook his head. "It would take too long to comb through those forests, but I thank you for the offer. I'm more inclined to think they'll have gone lower down, there's any number of prosperous lesser holds and cotholds in the valleys."

He looked at the three dragons and shook his head, and this time smiled, a genuine smile.

"My boys will be wild to know I've seen a dragon and spoken to his rider!"

"We'll be on Search in a few months, with a clutch of eggs on the Hatching Grounds - "

The smile was wiped from Rathan's face, and he stabbed a gloved finger at H'ric.

"Don't you be thinking you can take the cream of our young men, and girls, for your pleasures! You'll get no welcome from the Lord Holders if you start that nonsense again!"

H'ric stared at him, aware that he was so angry he was beginning to shake, and Galanath nudged at him, his eyes now brilliantly yellow and red.

"I think you mistake, guard," B'rnel said quietly. "When the dragons of Pern find a candidate on Search, that family is honoured. Dragons are bred to defend this land."

"From what? There is no more Thread, if that's what you worry about! The rest of your kind suicided to give us landsmen room to grow and prosper, not fret about giving of our best, food and people, to idle dragonfolk."

H'ric turned away and gathered up his riding straps, mounted to Galanath's neck.

"If that is your opinion, then nothing I can say will change it," he said in a steady voice. "But we will continue on our path, the path laid down for us and one we cannot shirk."

He nodded to the other two, and the dragons rose from the ground in eddies of dust and splinters of wood and leaves, and then vanished _between_ on their way to Telgar Hold.


	7. Chapter 7

The usual disclaimer for any writer of Pern fanfiction, that I own nothing but the characters in my story.

The task doesn't grow any less for the Weyrleader, it seems. Such a vast continent, so few dragons, and he will need all the help he can get.

1.10.195

The three riders snapped out of _between_ over Telgar Hold. South of the Weyr, but still in the mountainous valleys that hid unexpected rich grassland meadows and fast flowing streams, the Hold was built snugly into a sheer rock face with a wide apron of stone paving in front of it.

They circled down, hearing the sound of a horn warning the Hold of approaching visitors.

"I like that idea," B'rnel called across. "Much like the drums from the Harper Hall, eh?"

H'ric nodded as he studied the defences of the Hold. There was far too much woodland all around on the mountain slopes for his comfort, but at least the stone facades and walls were bare of greenery.

They landed on the stone pavement and H'ric came down from his dragon, aware that he was still far too angry and wary. He stood, therefore, stroking Galanath as he calmed himself and reassured his dragon.

- _he was angry for those people you love_

"Did he seem so?"

- _yes, and also because he remembered you_

"I'll have to write to him, I suppose, and try to answer his anger."

He stepped forward then to greet the steward of the household.

"Weyrleader. The Lord Holder Lacalan bids you welcome, and I am here to escort you to him."

"He is not well?"

"Alas, he is not in the best of health."

H'ric allowed himself to be led into the great hall, nearly the size of the queen's weyr at Benden, he realised with a shock. The walls were covered with elaborate tapestries and he paused to view them, seeing dragons depicted as well as the normal scenes of the hunt and of farming and craft work.

"These are very beautiful," he said, and the steward nodded, scarcely glancing at them, as if they were so familiar he almost forgot their presence.

"Woven over the Turns by the ladies of the household," he said, and took them up a staircase and around to the front of the building.

The room they entered faced south down the valley and the afternoon sun warmed it through a double layer of glass which H'ric noted at once. The room was half bedroom and half sitting room, and the man on the couch watched them come forward.

"You will excuse me not rising, Weyrleader," he said, and H'ric was surprised at the rich quality of his voice, having seen him as aged and infirm.

"Of course, my lord," H'ric said, crossing to the couch and bowing in respect.

"Sit down, all of you. Lobet! Wine and some food for our guests."

H'ric sat down on the upholstered chair and wondered if he could arrange for some extra cushions for his own chair in his weyr, realising how very stark those quarters were, but perhaps only by comparison to a place such as this.

"You wrote to me to inform me you are the new Weyrleader - you came from Crom, I'm told? A miner's son? You could have claimed protection from me, you know, when your parents died."

"As I told Rathan, up at the abandoned Weyr, I could hear dragons."

"Rathan was at the Weyr?"

"He said he was looking for outlaws and the holdless."

The Lord Holder gave a breathless laugh, shaking his head.

"Oh, he's cool! He is holdless himself, now. He killed a man in the mines, and rather than wait, he ran."

H'ric stared at him, stunned.

"Are you - sure - my lord? He wore your livery!"

"Did he? Well, he won't wear it for long. But here is my son - Cantin, I have been telling the Weyrleader of Rathan's crimes and defection."

"To be sure, sir, and I will fully brief the Weyrleader later, if I may, in case he catches sight of him again?"

"Yes, that would be best. Ah - wine - this is not best Benden, I don't have any of that left, but this is passable, quite passable."

H'ric saw the eye signals between eldest son and steward, and guessed there was something amiss here. He was aware of the three dragons outside, moving restlessly on the stone pavement, and forced himself to be calm as he listened to the Lord Holder talking about the harvest they were having, assuring the Weyrleader of his support and the tithe he would be able to manage.

They drank several glasses of wine before the Lord Holder seemed to droop on his couch and slide into a doze, and then Lord Cantin rose and signalled, and in silence he led the three from the room, allowing servants to go in and tend to the Lord Holder.

"Come into here - a flask of water, if you please, served in here."

H'ric was aware his head was buzzing, and was thankful the wine had not been a heavy Benden red, but some sort of country wine.

"My father is not a well man," Cantin said abruptly. "His mind wanders. Rathan is the name of a guard in his youth, not the present very efficient guard - I presume you met him?"

"Thank you. I had hoped that was true. Rathan was patrolling around the empty Weyr and recognised me as being a miner's son."

Cantin nodded. "He's a very efficient guard, and he patrols endlessly against those he sees as holdless, or a danger to the Hold."

"He seemed upset at the thought of Searching?"

"There is a queen egg? Our bloodline is one of the oldest on Pern, and we do produce queen riders on occasion. You must of course send your riders to Search when the time comes."

He too outlined the tithe they would be sending to Benden, which was quite different to the amounts his father had mentioned. He also admitted he was planning on a gradual increase as the Pass neared, so that his people would be used to the heavier tithes when the time came.

"But you are only one Weyr," Cantin said diffidently. "I hesitate to raise the matter, Weyrleader, but how will you cope?"

"I don't know," H'ric said frankly. "I plan to put a wing of riders in every one of the abandoned Weyrs, but they can of course only do so much. Your ground crews, with the agenothree sprayers, must be alert to cover any Threadfall on your lands."

"Yes, I understand that. I have the smith crafters working on making more of the sprayers, and also on some sort of shields and foot-guards to wear when searching for Thread burrows."

He shuddered, much as Lord Arun had done, and stared out of the window at the sunlit afternoon.

"It does not seem possible that it will be I who commands in this Pass," he said at last, turning back to them with a rueful smile. "But then - _Lord of the Hold, your charge is sure. In thick walls, metal doors, and no verdure. _Isn't that how it runs in the Duty Song?"

"It is indeed, and you have room for everyone in this building if necessary?"

"We do, and will have provisions and water stored away. Is there anything else I can show you in the Hold? Or are you bound for home again?"

"We will be going back to Benden, yes."

They stood up and Lord Cantin walked to the main doors with them, showing them the thick metal and stone shutters on all the outer windows, and the glass panes set in metal frames, even the chimneys shielded by metal caps.

"I will be ready, Weyrleader," he said.

"I believe it, my lord, and I thank you for your support."

"We must aid each other, especially in this waiting time before a Pass."

"Some of the other Lord Holders don't believe Thread will come?"

Lord Cantin shrugged. "That's for their consciences, Weyrleader. I do the best I can with what is set before me. A good journey to you."

Mounted again, H'ric gave the signal for rising, and the dragons flapped strongly upwards, catching a thermal, coming together to share a sharp picture of Benden with their riders in order to go _between_ and reach the Weyr safely.


	8. Chapter 8

3.11.195

H'ric raised his head and looked around the Records room. He had been sitting here aimlessly pushing his lists around, he realised, whilst being aware of someone moving up and down the stairs into the two conjoined weyrs.

"Mima? Is that you?"

His foster mother swept the curtain aside and came in, her movement disturbing some of the old musty parchments on the benches. She looked around, at the glow basket, at the disorder, at H'ric dishevelled appearance.

"So this is your lair, is it?"

"I have work to do." He gestured vaguely around the room, aware of a pounding headache, gritty eyes, and an ache in his right ankle where he had been supporting his left foot on it under the chair, a bad habit of his.

"And so I see, and the rest of your life to do it, eh?"

Her face softened and she came into the room and laid an arm around his shoulder.

"H'ric, pet, stop it," she murmured. "You're flogging yourself to death, and it won't do the Weyr any good if you're out of it."

He leaned back into her embrace, smelling her special cordial.

"Who's sick, Mima?"

"Your lady, of course. But then you wouldn't know that, would you? You scarcely exchange a glance with her, nor a kind word either, I would doubt? What's the matter with you, don't you know she's your responsibility as much as the Weyr or that feckless old fool out on the ledge, complaining he's swept off all the Ista sand and wanting more?"

H'ric stared up into her face, untangling her speech which as usual was also interlarded with exclamations, huffs and puffs, and her special cynical expressions of doubt. He had edited those out, effortlessly, as he always did.

"Jiverny is sick? How long has she been sick?"

"I'm not the one to tell you that, am I? You're her weyrmate, although from the state of her bed, you disdain her as well. When was the last time you two slept together?"

H'ric blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Er - well - we don't - I mean - I haven't - since - "

Mima let go of him and stood away.

"So I wrung out of her. Once, eh? And is that enough for a bond between you? Eh?"

"A - bond?"

"H'ric, you daft little thing, you and the lady have to run this Weyr, yes, and the rest of Pern, for the entire Pass to come! To do that, you need to be united. Now go and have a nice bath, and wash that horrible tangle of hair, and go and at least sit with the lady!"

She swept out of the room again, and the dust settled, and the parchments whispered together, and H'ric ran a hand through his hair, finding it greasy and tangled as Mima had said.

His mother had been proud of his hair, he thought irrelevantly. Proud of the way it curled naturally into the shape of his face after a hair cut, proud of the strength and vitality of it, as dark as Crom coal itself, she always said.

H'ric stood up abruptly, and shielded the glow basket, and went out to his weyr. Galanath was awake and turned his head, poking it into the weyr.

- _she is very kind_

"I know. Sorry - have I been neglecting you? Ista sand?"

- _I would like some more, if the wing is going to practice there soon_

"I'll see about it. And about speaking to the Weyrwoman."

-_Heveneth is very pleased_

"Pleased? About what?"

But Galanath had withdrawn his head and H'ric gave a huff of exasperation as he stripped off his clothes, climbed into the naturally warm water and scrubbed himself down, feeling better and more relaxed as he floated in the pool. Staring up at the rock ceiling, he wondered how many other Weyrleaders had lain here and pondered that very question.

Dry, and dressed in his nightwear with a thick robe that had belonged to R'tin, H'ric went through to Jiverny's quarters, knocking hesitantly before he entered.

Jiverny was lying down, and he was shocked to see how pale she was. He came over and sat down by the bed, viewing her anxiously.

"Mima was by," he said.

"Yes. She's concerned, but I've told her I'll be fine."

"Is it a fever? Something you ate?"

She reached out a hand and took his, sat up in the bed and shook her head, staring at him.

"You have made me pregnant," she said.

H'ric was aware of another deep burning blush consuming his whole body.

"I've - what - when - I didn't realise - are you pleased?"

Jiverny nodded slowly.

"I think I am. I have never fallen pregnant before, and I am not a young woman, but Mima seems to think it will be fine."

"Is that - the reason you wouldn't come to the Benden Gather?"

"I couldn't go _between_ that early in the pregnancy. I shouldn't go _between_ at all in the nine months of pregnancy. I know you thought I was being - cold - indifferent - I would have loved to have gone."

Her gaze found the wooden ornaments he had bought her at the Gather, when he had come back and told her about it.

"There will be other Gathers."

"As there will be other days for you to fret and worry over the Weyr? You look exhausted, H'ric, and you have been going _between_ far too often, combing the planet for likely support."

"We need support."

"Granted. But there are several Turns, we hope, before the inevitable? Pace yourself, Weyrleader, and apportion some of your tasks to your Wingleaders. C'lin is being difficult about R'tin's wing, isn't he?"

It seemed easier to get into bed with Jiverny than sit on the hard chair, and they moved around a little, adjusting, settling, and he told her about the bronze rider C'rin and his young but intelligent dragon Amroth, the pair he wanted, although C'lin was holding out for the older pairing of M'dor and Cirith.

"I like young C'rin," Jiverny murmured. "You must speak to both pairs."

"Yes, I'll do that. Have you seen the healer?"

"Oh, I didn't trouble him, although he is very good at his work. Do you like him?"

"Yes, I do. He talks a lot of sense to the riders, about their own health. It's partly because of his suggestions I want to put some of those games in place that he recommended. We could make them into contests at Turnover festival - that would give people something to work towards."

"Weyr folk as well as riders?"

"Oh yes, everyone could compete. Prizes?"

"Silver cups would be nice, with a name engraved."

H'ric nodded, and they talked about Ista, where he had been, and promised Jiverny he would take her again.

"And the Lord Holders?" she asked. "Benden and Telgar are the most supportive?"

"I had hoped Lemos and Bitra would also be generous, but they are holding to the letter of the law with the tithe. But so long as they send what's due, and I keep speaking and writing with courtesy, that's the best I can do there, I think."

"Harper and Healer Hall?"

He shook his head.

"I haven't been there yet. I visited Fort, but they were cool, very cool. I did win agreement I could use the Weyr to corral and fatten stock in each season, but I think that will be the extent of it."

Jiverny leaned up on one elbow and traced the frown on his face.

"Let it go for now," she said. "That's all to face again tomorrow and the next day, but you must pace yourself and get some rest."

"Yes. And you - I need to take better care of you, lady."

"You have given me what I thought I would never have, although I will not count it until the child is birthed," she said in a quiet voice.

He embraced her clumsily, and if the first kiss they exchanged was a little awry, the ones after it were surer, and then they had moved together into a climax of giving to each other and fell asleep in each other's arms.


	9. Chapter 9

I know the canon stories say dragon memories are short, but I needed to step out of that a little way for the story. All else is the preserve of Ann McCaffrey's wonderful world of Pern.

15.11.195

H'ric leaned back against Galanath's side, his legs dangling over the side of the ledge of their weyr. He was watching the life of the Weyr going on around him, and enjoying a quiet moment of intense mental communion with his dragon.

- _she is very tetchy now_

- So she would be, so close to hatching. It's a worrying time for all mothers.

- _dragon mothers are not like human mothers, carrying a live child, a thing I do not understand_

- I'm not sure I do, either, pet

- _pet? This is a word humans use to each other, not a Weyrleader to his dragon_

- I don't object to Mima calling me pet. There she goes now, bustling off to tend to someone else

- _are you jealous?_

- no, I don't think so. I had parents, real parents, but Mima is very special to me, as R'tin was.

- _none of us knew Teneth was going to do that, go away like that, none of us can remember it happening before_

- I've searched the records of deaths in the Weyr, and not found any reference to it. I've written it down as part of our history

- _those nasty animal skins? I prefer to eat my animals with the skin on, warm from the chase_

- gruesome beast. I wish there was some other more permanent way of remembering important facts

- _we remember them_

- yes, I suppose you do. How far back to the memories of the dragons of Benden go?

There was mental silence for so long that H'ric twisted round to view his dragon with concern, seeing his eyelids lowered as if he was indeed searching all the memories of the dragons around him.

- _Vereneth remembers his Weyrlingmaster's dragon Dirith, and the stories he told, but that is not very far in the past_

- no, but C'lin doesn't speak about his Weyrlingmaster at all. He's twenty Turns older than me

- _Pradeth recalls a very old brown dragon called Stimith who saw something very strange at Fort, where he was posted as a watch dragon_

- a watch dragon?

- _Pradeth says Stimith's rider was there as a punishment, but he learned a lot of new songs from the harpers, and kissed a great many girls_

- what did he see? I must think about watch dragons during the Pass.

- _he saw lights in the Weyr, but when he flew to look, they were gone, but he said the ashes of the fires were still warm_

- outlaws? Holdless?

- _Stimith's rider reported it, and the Lord Holder sent a troop of men to look, but all they found were old records hidden in a side room_

H'ric sat up abruptly.

- records? What happened to the records?

- _they went to the Harper Hall, where all the records are kept_

H'ric banged his fist on the stone in frustration.

- and the Masterharper of Pern wants his journeyman back from here.

- _I like the songs Yorus makes for us, and about us, but he says the Masterharper would not like him to write them down and send them to other places_

- well, he can sing them here all he likes, because he writes such tuneful songs, everyone can join in the chorus after only one hearing

- _she wakes and calls me_

H'ric blinked back to focus and stood up and away as Galanath turned his head to nuzzle at him, and then was gone into the Hatching Ground where Haveneth had taken up residence until Hatching, which must be imminent now.

"So the Masterharper of Pern keeps secrets, does he?" H'ric asked aloud. "We'll see about that."

H'ric made his way across to the lower caverns where he was reasonably sure he would find Yorus, perhaps with Sharama the journeyman Healer who was living with them for a season whilst he trained up a team to cope with Thread injuries and the day to day injuries that might occur around such huge beasts as dragons. H'ric followed the sound of a gitar and found the two men together with a group of youngsters, teaching them their letters and numbers.

"Yorus."

"Weyrleader. How can I help you?"

H'ric looked around the room in pleased surprise, seeing the walls freshly plastered and painted with lifelike representations not only of dragons in their colours, and the strangely formed watch-whers, but other beasts common on Pern, runners, herd beasts, even the birds and fishes of the cold coastal waters. The youngsters were seated at desks he remembered from his own brief time in the teaching rooms.

All the youngsters were standing respectfully, and H'ric gestured them to sit as he walked around, glancing at their work, before asking if the two journeymen would join him. Yorus signalled an older boy to take over supervision, and the three men came out into the corridor.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise you'd taken over classes," H'ric said. "It can wait until after classes - "

"It will do Vindra good to supervise," Yorus said with a smile. "He's capable enough to do so."

"I was speaking to Galanath," H'ric said as they came into the dining area and Sharama called for _klah_ to be brought. "He was trying to remember the oldest dragon memories in the Weyr."

"Do the dragons speak to each other?" Sharama asked in surprise, and then flushed as the other two looked at him. "I didn't realise they did, but of course it's obvious. Sorry."

"Galanath said that a brown called Stimith was sent to Fort Hold - I think it must be at least two generations ago now, perhaps longer. Some old records were found at Fort Weyr and taken to the Harper Hall. Yorus, the Masterharper is supposed to keep every record, I know that, but do I have the right to ask to see those records?"

Yorus frowned at him.

"I suppose you do, Weyrleader, if they came from the abandoned Weyr. Do you think they held information about the disappearance? Or about Thread?"

"Either would be welcome," H'ric said grimly. "I hope you're training those youngsters well, both of you, because I think we'll all be spending the next several Turns copying out the old Records of this Weyr! It's simply a disgrace, the way they've been allowed to decay."

Sharama nodded his agreement.

"Strangely, older Records seem to be better preserved, and I've seen some at Healer Hall that seem to have been marked on a bendable glass fabric. I can't describe it any better than that, I'm afraid, and there certainly isn't very much of it in the Hall. It holds the oldest and deepest Records of all, but the Masterhealer is convinced a lot of it has been lost to time."

"That wouldn't surprise me," H'ric replied with a defeated sigh. "I do sometimes wonder at our predecessors. I know Pass and Interval follow each other, and the one disrupts the other and puts the world and progress on hold, but you'd have thought we would have been further advanced by now?"

Sharama looked around the room before he replied to that. A serving drudge had brought the flagon of freshly brewed _klah_ and three mugs, and some sweet rolls baked with dried fruit, and now Sharama leaned across the table.

"There's talk in the Craft Halls that the Lord Holders don't want any more advances or progress," he said softly. "They don't want their drudges educated, they don't want their minor cot holders learning any more about this world than what lies in their fields and their tithes. The Healers want to advance their knowledge of remedies, but the Lord Holders won't have anything done that hasn't been done in the past."

"I think the present Masterharper has that way of thinking as well," Yorus said unhappily. "I don't want to speak ill of him, but he was a most unexpected choice, so it's said, and there were murmurs of bribery to get him elected. He certainly won't sanction any new music, or new ways of expressing music. He wants me back at the Hall, you know, Weyrleader."

"I do know, and he isn't getting you back. If I have to lie and say you've Impressed, I will do so. I need you here, Yorus, because you understand dragons and their riders. And the children like you."

Yorus smiled in embarrassment, but Sharama endorsed H'ric opinion.

"You need a strong harper to be able to play and sing the duty songs, and keep everyone aware of the history of our world," he said. "What d'you want to do, Weyrleader?"

"I'm going to visit both Halls, and Fort," H'ric replied. "We're very close to Hatching, and once I know the numbers of eggs, I can send out on Search, and that will be my opportunity."

"How many eggs d'you think there'll be? Does the queen know?"

"I don't know," H'ric replied. "The Weyrwoman seems to think it'll be a large clutch, but I don't know how many that would be. Anywhere between ten and thirty, in the records. Fewer at the depths of the Interval, of course, but the clutch numbers have been rising in the last ten Turns, as if in anticipation of fighting Thread."

"And you can't tell the colour of the dragons?"

"No. We aim to put at least three Candidates to each egg, and hope the choice will be sufficient for the young dragons. If there's a gold egg, the Weyrwoman will take responsibility for training up the Candidates for that dragon."

"There are four junior queens in the Weyr at present?"

"Yes, and two of them are mature enough to be mating and clutching."

Sharama nodded, making a note on the tablet he always carried. H'ric approved of that and decided he could do with carrying such a thing to jot down his thoughts. He leaned across and refilled the mugs and they finished the rolls and the drink before H'ric left to go to the Hatching Grounds to check on Haveneth's health and mental wellbeing.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you for your continuing supportive reviews. There's a lot of ground to cover, so the story might skip days or months as we go on. Thank you to AM as well, for providing the bones of the stories so we can embellish.

30.11.195

H'ric raised his head as Jiverny slipped out of the bed beside him.

"What?" he murmured.

"Egg laying has begun," she replied, pulling on her clothes and finding her heavy soled shoes.

"I'll come with you - may I?"

"Of course."

H'ric spent a futile few moments looking for his own shoes, and then padded barefoot down to the Hatching Ground, carrying a glow-basket. On the day of Hatching and Impression this place would be full of dragons and assorted humans, but tonight there was only Haveneth on the Sands, Galanath perched above her, crooning to her, and the figures of the two humans walking across to join them, dwarfed by their surroundings and the size of their dragons.

Jiverny stopped H'ric and they stood watching the bulk of the queen dragon as she moved around and around the Sands, trying out first one place and then another.

"She says to thank you for the extra Ista sand," Jiverny murmured, and H'ric nodded. He had had several sacks of the fine sand brought in, the short flight _between _killing any bugs in it, and everyone had benefited from a share, but most of the sand was in here.

"Is that one now?"

"Yes." Jiverny clutched his arm, and H'ric put a hand over hers, smiling in the dimness as they watched the eggs being laid. H'ric was counting, and he was sure Galanath was as well; the bronze dragon would have an interest in the eggs and the hatchlings, but H'ric was not sure how much of a human father's emotion he would feel life long.

"What are you thinking?" Jiverny asked softly. "Haveneth is puzzled."

"Only wondering about how they react as parents."

"They aren't parents in the way we are," Jiverny replied. "Once the eggs are laid and hatched, the young dragons are on their own, although I suppose these two will always know which dragons came from their own mating."

- _I will be pleased to see them Impress, that will be a special time and I will know they are safe_

H'ric gave a half bow to Haveneth for her reply, and then he could count the completed clutch, and discerned twenty six eggs.

"Is one a gold?" he asked Jiverny as she inspected them.

"I think so. This one, with the stronger markings. Haveneth will guard the one she thinks is a gold."

She came down in a hurry onto the lower sands which were slightly cooler than the sands where Haveneth was now stretched out in a protective wall around her eggs as they hardened. This was a vulnerable time for the eggs with their slightly softer skins, and the two leaders walked away from the dragons to let them tend the eggs.

They came out to see the first light of dawn over the Weyr, the redness of the sun touching the underside of a bank of clouds, but the sky overhead clear and still sparkling with the strongest stars in their sky.

"The Red Star will come in from over there, slightly east of north," H'ric said. "We can see it now, but it's not on the right alignment."

"I know - who's that - oh, Mima."

"Here y'are. _Klah_ and a few sweet rolls. Are they laid, then, the eggs? I seem to feel it when they're laid."

"Yes, you've always said that," Jiverny agreed with a smile, a smile that was seen more often now, H'ric thought contentedly as he poured the _klah_ and handed the sweet rolls around.

"I'll see about the Candidate rooms," Mima said as she left the room. H'ric gave a helpless shrug, smiling at Jiverny.

"I often wonder why she isn't Headwoman," he said.

"Because she doesn't want or need that position," Jiverny replied as she finished her drink, hiding a yawn. "We'd better get the riders ready to go out on Search, and write to the Lord Holders."

"Writing more letters," H'ric grumbled as he went to change into more suitable garb than the hotch-potch of clothing he had thrown on. The wonderful sight of Haveneth laying her eggs had affected him more than he had expected, and he found himself switching between pride and worry. He would need to bring in a surplus of young people for the Hatching, and although a large proportion of them would be Weyr-bred, Search was always undertaken planet wide because everyone on Pern should have the chance to be a Candidate.

H'ric and C'lin selected the Weyr's children who would stand at this Hatching. As H'ric had suspected, there were a number of youngsters of all ages, and he insisted the older ones should stand, rather than the very young.

"They can stand as young as 12," C'lin pointed out. "And you'll want them of an age to fight when the Pass proper begins."

"Yes, but we're stretched too thin at the moment to train them properly at that young age," H'ric said. "N'rin does a grand job, I can't fault him, but he's not getting any younger. He said he would be willing for K'mar to join him."

C'lin frowned. "K'mar is one of my Wing blues."

"I know. But if I transferred V'cin and brown Saloth from my Wing to you, and took in P'tar and his brown Maranath from the newly trained youngsters, would that balance things?"

"V'cin is a good rider," C'lin agreed grudgingly. "All right. I've three weyrlings in my own Wing and V'cin is good with youngsters."

H'ric nodded, marking the charts of the Wings and their members, moving names around. He did not have these battles with the other Wingleaders, he thought, but C'lin was one of the best riders at aerial manoeuvres and if he argued, at least it was always a measured argument, and not made out of spite.

"And outsiders?" C'lin asked.

"Most of the blues are out searching," H'ric replied. "I've taken the opportunity to write to the Holders as well, keeping them up to date with what's happening."

"That's not usual, is it?"

H'ric shook his head. "Not that I've ever found in the Records, but then the Records are so skimpy I'm amazed we know anything about running a Weyr."

"It's all done verbally," C'lin said. "My father was friends with a journeyman harper who used to come to the Weyr in his day, and the harper always maintained the vocal records of Pern were the more important. Every harper had to learn vast screeds of information by rote, and be able to repeat it at Gathers and anywhere else it was requested."

H'ric traced a set of letters on his waxed tablet, and C'lin shook his head.

"I know. People die, like R'tin, unexpectedly, in their prime, and their knowledge is lost. The Ancients must have had a way of recording what they did and where they came from, but that was lost when men came north to shield."

"Shield what?"

"Shield from, I would have thought. Shield themselves from Thread in the many caves and caverns of this land. Whatever happened in the south, must have killed that land off so they couldn't live in it anymore."

"Probably. Caves and caverns are safe places, but gloomy without plaster and paint."

C'lin laughed as he stood up. "Hence the pretty pictures in the teaching rooms? I like those as well, Weyrleader!"

H'ric watched him leave the room, and gathered his notes together. He planned to fly to Fort and speak to the Lord Holder, who termed himself the first amongst equals, and also he planned to speak to the Masterhealer and Masterharper about keeping records. A trip into Fort Weyr might be instructive as well.


	11. Chapter 11

Once again our thanks to AM for Pern. Will Benden find enough youngsters on Search? Probably not, unfortunately.

17.12.195

Galanath popped out of _between_ and H'ric looked down at the landscape below him.

"Why did you come out here?" he asked angrily.

- _this is a place you like_

H'ric agreed with that; this central part of the spine of land leading from Nabol to Fort was beholden to Ruatha, and the lord of Ruatha kept his land in fine fettle. H'ric could see herds of cattle feeding, fields lying fallow for the spring crop, and the road winding down from Ruatha towards Fort.

H'ric had spent time sketching in these mountains, and Galanath had sported in the freezing river waters, turning over stones to see what lay beneath them.

"We're supposed to be going to Ford Hold," H'ric reminded his dragon.

- _we will do so but you need to be calm_

H'ric drew several breaths of the cold thin air, filtered through the woollen scarf wrapped around his face.

"After that encounter with that benighted creature at Nabol? Yes, I will be calm."

Galanath seemed satisfied and flew on, not going _between_ as yet. Long strokes of his massive wings drove them onwards in the clear winter air. There was high white cloud but the sun was shining and obscuring the Red Star, shining by day as well as by night now as it approached.

Galanath changed course suddenly and H'ric looked where he was going. A big flock of wherries was circling over what H'ric supposed was one of the valleys in the mountains, perhaps where a road passed through.

"What's going on? They usually gather for carrion."

- _there is something in the valley which is not right_

Galanath flew higher, but H'ric knew his excellent long vision was spying out the land below them. The dragon fed back to him the tiny shapes on the land, and H'ric interpreted them.

"A wagon train of some sort, and it's in trouble! Attacked by others - perhaps holdless outlaws."

- _we go in_

Galanath wheeled around to approach from the sunward side, and glided down by tipping air from under one wing, banking steeply to come into the valley where H'ric could see conflict.

At a rapid assessment he saw four heavily laden trader wagons defended by at least a dozen men and boys. Two runner beasts lay dead, which was what had attracted the wherries, and the outlaws were on horseback and attacking from the sides of the roadway, coming in at the defenders and wielding swords against staves.

Galanath came down on them out of nowhere, it seemed, and the mounted horses reacted by shrieking and panicking in terror, unhorsing at least two outlaws and dragging them down the road. The wagon horses bucked and squealed in terror, but they were anchored by the wagons, and men and boys ran to them to calm them.

Galanath landed on an open stretch of road, H'ric dismounted, and the dragon rose to chase away the wherries. H'ric ran down on the scene of chaos and used his long belt knife to disable at least one outlaw before the remainder of the gang gained control of their horses and raced away.

In the suspended moment between action and reaction, H'ric noted two outlaws dead, one trader down dead by the wheel of his wagon, and several wounded. Someone had put hoods over the horses' heads and they were gradually stilling and stopping.

The trader came at a run, wiping his sword, panting and blowing, and H'ric realised most of the traders were armed with swords or long knives.

"Our thanks, bronze rider! Another few moments and I believe they would have overwhelmed us!"

"Who were they? Holdless? Outlaw?"

"All of that," the trader agreed. "I hadn't realised they'd grown so bold in these back hills."

He made a half bow. "Chandra, trader and merchant."

"H'ric, Weyrleader of Benden, rider of bronze Galanath."

"The Weyrleader himself! You are a long way from Benden, sir."

"I'm on my way to Fort, and to visit Harper and Healer Hall, but Galanath saw the wherries."

They glanced upwards, and Galanath was alone in the sky, spiralling down to land on a ledge amongst the peaks, the sunlight glinting from his bronze hide.

"And our thanks to your dragon!"

"Your horses were affected as much."

"But we know how to calm them down. Thank you again. We're on our way down to Ruatha to trade."

"What d'you carry?"

"Anything and everything that needs carrying from one place to another. Those men may have attacked thinking we were carrying jewels, because some of our people have been up to the mines."

The whole situation was under control, H'ric was pleased to see. The dead trader was being gathered up and wrapped and laid in one of the wagons, the dead outlaws searched.

"What will you do with the bodies?" H'ric asked, watching weapons, leather goods, all going into the wagons as booty.

"I don't know. I can't carry them, so I suppose we'd better bury them, and I'll alert Ruatha about them. I don't know who they are, or where they came from, but I wonder if someone knew them."

"I'll take a description of them down to Fort," H'ric decided. "Lend me something to write or draw with, if you would?"

He spent a moment sketching the dead men and writing a description of them, and put the tablet into his coat pocket.

"I'm afraid you might have to go to Fort to ask for it back," he said with a smile, and Chandra shook his head.

"Keep it, sir, it has our mark on it, it will do as an advertisement for us! Is that your dragon on the ledge? Young Dawan hasn't taken his eyes off him!"

H'ric looked at the young boy Chandra indicated. The trader boy had his eyes fixed in concentration on Galanath. H'ric sent a quick query to his dragon and received the astonishing information that Galanath was speaking to the boy.

"How old is the boy?" H'ric asked Chandra.

"Eight. Why?"

"We're on Search, with a queen egg hardening on the sands, but he's too young at the moment."

"I've never had a boy or a girl Searched. Why him?"

"My dragon Galanath says he's speaking to him. If the boy can speak to dragons, as I could, then he stands a chance."

"How old would he have to be? He's my youngest son, and I'm training him as a trader."

"I warn you now, there's no guarantee any boy will be chosen to Impress. Twelve is the youngest I allow on the sands at the moment."

"Well, perhaps I'll trend up Benden way with some trade goods - I suppose you and yours at the Weyr can do with trade goods?"

"We receive a tithe, but we do have our own money and resources. Cloth, sewing goods, the women in the kitchens and caverns can always use those."

"Pretties?"

H'ric smiled. "We're all the same, trader Chandra, we all like pretties!"

Chandra nodded. "We'll be there, Weyrleader, and if I lose a son to you, so be it, but I'll relieve you of more than a little coin before I go!"

H'ric laughed, and they clasped hands, and then H'ric lent a hand to order the wagons again, and accepted a gift of food and drink packed into a wher-hide bag to withstand the cold of_ between_.

"These bags can be useful - where did you get the hide?"

"I've a stack of it in my wagons - we ran into a pack of wild whers and had to kill most of them to rescue our horses! We've been curing them as we go along, and I can usually get a good price for them."

"We use them to make our flying gear - the hide keeps out that momentary flash of cold from _between_ better than furs, although we line our helmets - see here - "

Chandra examined the flying helmet.

"I'll be at Benden before I've sold all my hides, I assure you."

"Are there many such packs of wild whers?"

Chandra shook his head.

"I doubt it. Perhaps they inhabit caves in the remote mountains, but they don't venture down into the valleys, and when they do, the holders have to kill them. Like I say, their hide is valuable."

"Yes."

"They aren't dragons, are they?"

"No - although they must have been bred up as intentionally as the dragons. I don't know - records are so fragmented and scarce, I'm constantly frustrated in seeking knowledge."

Chandra nodded.

"I know what you mean. Harpers are supposed to carry all the knowledge, but it can be a hard task to get them to speak it out loud! The Lord Holders don't care for all that, of course, they're only interested in furthering their own Holds and Blood lines."

"I've heard that might be the case," H'ric replied. "But perhaps at Fort and the Harper Hall I might get some proper answers."

"I wish you luck, Weyrleader."

H'ric watched the wagons go down the road, the merchants keeping guard, but there was little fear the outlaws would attack again. There was blood on the road where H'ric stood, and a cairn of stones marked where the two outlaws had been buried.

Galanath landed neatly on the road, flipping his wings closed, mincing around and sniffing at the residue of carnage.

- _they were bad men who did not care for others_

"True enough."

- _the wherries were tasty_

H'ric laughed as he climbed up to take up the riding harness and fasten it on, slap Galanath's hide, and the dragon rose up from the road, circling to make sure Chandra's wagon train was safely on its way, before snapping _between_ and emerging over Fort Hold to announce their presence to the watchmen.


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for all your reviews - I looked in all the forums for mention of wher-hide and I concluded it was a generic term for leather hides. I found some speculation about wild whers and wondered if in the degenerative era of an Interval, with only one Weyr disseminating knowledge of dragons, whether such animals would exist. I visualise the flying gear of the riders to be akin to that of aviators in World War I, leather and fur and perhaps quilted gambesons beneath the jacket.

17.12.195

H'ric dismounted on the open land before Fort Hold. He could see Tweneth and Tirith on the watch heights, and B'rnel was waiting for him with the steward of Fort Hold.

"Greetings, Weyrleader," the steward said. "The Lord Holder Riasalt bids you welcome to his Hold."

"You may thank the Lord Holder for me," H'ric said briskly, stripping off gloves and helmet and jacket. He looked around, and then pointedly back at the steward who looked taken aback.

"Ah - allow me."

B'rnel smothered a smile as the steward took the flying gear. Galanath took off for the watch heights and the steward could not help himself cowering from the shower of dust swirling across the ground.

H'ric did not comment, but followed the steward, B'rnel falling into step with him.

"The Lord Holder is furious at you," he murmured under his breath. "G'las was here yesterday, and Denethor selected two girls and four boys on Search, all of them able workers and a loss to the Hold, so the Lord Holder claimed."

"How did the candidates take it?"

"G'las reckons they were delighted to be gone from their homes."

"Hmm."

They entered the Hold, the oldest on Pern, the first to be built after the escape from the south. H'ric stood looking around in appreciation, trying not to show he was overwhelmed; this was the first time he had been here, and he had only heard descriptions of it; the way the huge hall had been cut out of bare rock; the twists and turns of the living quarters dug deep into the huge rock face; the great doors that could be barred against Thread.

"This way, Weyrleader," the steward said, conducting him towards a smaller room, glaring at B'rnel who merely smiled back and continued to follow the two men.

The Lord Holder of Fort swung round from contemplating a pile of parchments on a side desk. There was another man there, H'ric saw, making notes, explaining perhaps, where the Lord Holder was missing people through Search.

"Good day to you, Lord Riasalt," H'ric said with a smile, advancing to greet the Lord Holder who looked totally taken aback but responded with only a slight delay.

"Good day to you, Weyrleader. Mion - refreshments for our guests."

He too glared at B'rnel who had fetched out a waxed tablet from his pocket and sat down near the clerk, stylus poised to make notes.

"My Wingsecond B'rnel, rider of brown Tweneth."

The Lord Holder nodded to him, and invited H'ric to seat himself.

"First, my lord, I need to report to you that I helped a trader convoy in the hills above Ruatha, attacked by outlaws."

"Ruatha? Ruatha deals with its own problems."

"Indeed, and I'm sure that's true, and the trader was going to report it. I am reporting it to you in case other outlaws operate in your hills. I drew two of the dead men and wrote descriptions of them."

He handed over the tablet and the Lord Holder gestured to his clerk to come and take it. He did so, glancing curiously at H'ric.

"You wrote to me, saying you would be coming in person to visit," Lord Riasalt said as he watched Mion the steward bringing in a tray of small bites of food and goblets of wine. "I see no reason for this visit, Weyrleader."

"In due time, we may well be working together far more closely, my lord, all of us throughout Pern."

"Oh - you are talking about Thread - yes, I suppose you dragonriders are obsessed with it, it's the reason for your existence after all."

"Thread has recurred many times in our history, my lord, and we in the Weyr see no reason why it should not come again."

Lord Riasalt shrugged, pushing the plate of fancies towards H'ric.

"Well, you must say that, of course, but in Council, the Lord Holders and Craft Masters have determined the menace has gone for all time. Why else would the other Weyrs be empty?"

H'ric took a sip of his wine, found it a full strength Benden red and took a bite of a savoury pastry puff to put food in his stomach.

"It seems premature to make that conclusion when we are Turns off the putative date for Thread's return," he said at last.

"And you will be able to repopulate all the Weyrs in just these few Turns? I can count as well, Weyrleader, and I count five Turns before we are overwhelmed."

"Hence the need for Search," H'ric said at once. "I understand my searchers have been most successful here at Fort?"

The Lord Holder scowled at him.

"Your riders took six youths of both genders from this Hold! Six! At an age when they can be most productive on the land and in their crafts."

"We have a queen egg hardening on the sands, and twenty five others of indeterminate colour," H'ric replied, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. "Six candidates is something to be proud of, surely, if you know your history, and the teaching ballads?"

The Lord Holder's eyes shifted, and H'ric leaned forward.

"Your youngsters are taught all their ballads, my lord? I trust they are all taught from an early age the history of our world, and the debt owed to dragons, and the reasons for these Searches and the tithes?"

"And that's another matter! You stated you expect an increase in the tithe! Benden, Bitra and Lemos are the Holds that tithe to you!"

"They tithe the most, yes, but as the Turns progress, and more dragons are hatched, I will expect an increase from all Holds and Crafts, my lord."

Lord Riasalt stood up abruptly, towering over H'ric as he sat at the table.

"That will be entirely at my discretion, Weyrleader, and I will need a lot of convincing before I increase my tithe! You can Search, and take who you will, I suppose, and I have agreed to send cattle into the old Weyr for fattening in the new season, but that is all I am prepared to allow."

H'ric stood up, and glanced across at B'rnel.

"Is that noted, Wingsecond?"

"It is noted, Weyrleader," B'rnel said, and the clerk made a nervous movement to cover his own writing as B'rnel leaned across to inspect the parchment.

"I see you have not recorded that declaration," B'rnel pointed out. "Write it in, if you please."

Lord Riasalt marched across and tore the tablet from B'rnel's hands, and seemed about to destroy it, when they were interrupted by all three dragons bugling from the heights, a tremendous sound H'ric thought none of these land based folk had ever heard before.

"A rider is linked in the mind to his dragon, my lord," H'ric said. "I remind you of that, and that all three dragons, bronze, brown, and green, have witnessed this conversation, and can transmit it to all the dragons of Pern. Think well of that, before you deny your own word."


	13. Chapter 13

This chapter goes very much with the one before it, and unfortunately, human nature being what it is, it is easier to deny an unpalatable fact than to acknowledge it.

17.12.195

H'ric stood outside the massive doors of Fort Hold and looked around at the bustle and activity. M'nas joined them and H'ric asked him where he had been.

"Down in the kitchens, Weyrleader, getting some insider information."

"On what?"

"The possibility of Thread, the likelihood of someone's son becoming a rider, how the harvest was really good this year, all that sort of thing."

H'ric began walking. The Healer and Harper Halls were below Fort Hold, and he wanted to calm himself before he arrived at what he was gloomily sure would be more confrontations.

"A good harvest, they say? The Lord Holder wasn't at all sure he could put prime cattle into the empty Weyr for fattening."

"Oh, he'll try and pull a fast one on that," M'nas agreed.

They could hear the Harper Hall before they reached it. Someone was practicing drum rolls on the drum heights, the same sequence over and over again, and M'nas cocked his head.

"Nothing very important, just a sequence of practice words."

"You can interpret the drums?"

"I asked Yorus to teach me," M'nas said. "I hope I didn't do wrong?"

"Not at all. I wondered why you were accompanying him the other night."

"Yes, as a bonus of course, I can help him out."

They could also hear voices singing over scales and exercise pieces, and B'rnel pointed to the open windows.

"They have the same metal shutters as Fort Hold. This was built at the same time, wasn't it?"

"About then, yes."

They were admitted to the Hall and once again H'ric was struck by the size of the place, the way it seemed to be growing out of the rocky cliff face. A journeyman brought them into a study where the Masterharper, Serellim, was dictating letters to another journeyman. He broke off and rose courteously to greet them, calling for _klah_ and some sweet rolls to be brought.

"You are not yourself on Search, Weyrleader?"

"No, I am on a visit around the holds and halls," H'ric replied after he had introduced the other two. "I intend these visits to be done with regularity, Masterharper, to keep us all up to date with the news of our concerns."

"Weyrs, Halls, and Holds, are governed individually," Serellim said sharply. "We do not have a central government, that was never part of the plans for this world."

"You have details of that?" H'ric asked at once. "You hold the major sets of records, I understand that correctly?"

"We do. Some of them are nonsense now, of course, because we don't use whatever it is they describe, but they are kept and copied."

"As we do at the Weyr. I find the quality of parchment and hides to be far from satisfactory, however."

"You would have to take that up with the Craftmaster at the Tanners Hall - I simply buy my provisions in as you do."

H'ric nodded.

"Yes, we do that. What d'you use when you're composing?"

Serellim's eyes shifted to an inner door.

"I use a sand table. Damp sand, and then copying to parchment."

"A useful idea. Make a note of that, B'rnel."

Serellim watched him write.

"And you are using?"

"Wax melted onto wood," B'rnel said. "Something suggested from seeing youngsters making models out of candle wax and putting their names on them."

"Hmph. Not permanent, then?"

"No. Nothing is very permanent, is it?"

Serellim shook his head. "No, apart from the very first records, inscribed on a substance we no longer have."

"But you have older records from previous times?" H'ric asked. "Those found at Fort Weyr, for instance? Two generations back, I'm told."

"Who told you that? Why would you know about that?"

"The dragons remembered," H'ric replied. "They talk amongst themselves, and pass on what they remember. Usually, it's mundane things like the last time they feasted on wild animals, or the weather from season to season. But two generations ago a rider was used as a watcher, and he discovered some old records at Fort Weyr. May I see them, Masterharper?"

"I'm afraid I don't know where they are."

"Perhaps you could institute a search? I would be most grateful for a sight of them."

"I'll have to see about that. Oh, and whilst I remember, I require my journeyman Yorus back from your Weyr. I need him here in the Hall, he still has a lot of learn!"

"Impossible until after the eggs are Hatched," H'ric replied with a smile and a shrug. "I allow most males to stand, Masterharper, and with his musical talent, it may be that Yorus will Impress."

"Impress? Impress a dragon? Have you run mad, Weyrleader? He spent the best part of his childhood here, we fed him and clothed him, and expect some return from that, not that he goes running off on some wild - wild - "

"I'm sure you have plenty of journeymen," H'ric said. "I, however, do not have that many Candidates that I can afford to pass up on one who is willing to stand."

"And if he does not Impress? He can return here? I demand his return!"

"Well - I will certainly release him in due course," H'ric said with a smile he was far from feeling. "He is most useful to me, Masterharper, of great use in teaching the children their lessons and their learning, their ballads and songs."

"Hmph."

Serellim sat back, staring at all three of them, studying them, and H'ric took the opportunity to do the same with the room he was in. There was no sign of music in here, he thought, no instruments piled carelessly in a corner, no sheets of music on stands, no sign that this man did anything other than dictate letters.

"Mind, if he stays with you, I don't want him making new songs!" Serellim said suddenly. "He's not nearly as competent at that as he likes to pretend. He was always making fiddly little tunes and couplets, but they can't be graced with the name of music, or given a Harper's approval."

"I'll be sure to tell him that," H'ric replied. "Meanwhile, I would be grateful if you would send word, perhaps by the drums, when you locate the records I am after?"

"I'll endeavour to have them located."

"Thank you. We will be seeing each other very often, Masterharper, when this Interval comes to an end."

"Indeed. _Dragonmen must fly, when threads are in the sky_."

H'ric stood up as Serellim came to his feet, signifying the interview was at an end. H'ric was very sure he would never see the old records, but he made pleasant small talk as they walked through the main hall and out into the late winter sunshine. Serellim squinted into the north east, and shaded his eyes.

"You can see it quite clearly now, even in daylight," he said.

"I am aware, and I will have watchers at the Star Stones of every Weyr to cross check, when the sun rests on the Finger Rock."

"Then I will not keep you from your duty, Weyrleader."

He turned and walked back, and H'ric watched him go as B'rnel watched other apprentices and journeymen hurrying to their duties.

"And may it be a warm day _between_ before he gives you any help at all, Weyrleader," he said drily.

"Well, that went about how I expected," H'ric said as they entered the courtyards of the Healer Hall. "Now let's see what welcome we get here."

A journeyman hurried across to them, bowed to them, and conducted them inside.

"The Masterhealer Perera will be here directly, Weyrleader. _ Klah_? Or something a little stronger?"

"Nothing for the moment, thank you."

"Very well. Through there, if you need to refresh yourselves."

He hurried off, and the three riders took the hint and went to attend to their toilet, coming back out into the main area to find the Masterhealer waiting for them.

"Weyrleader H'ric - ah - I have to sympathise with you for the loss of R'tin, I knew him quite well."

"You did? I mean, did you?"

The Masterhealer smiled. "Yes, he came down to consult with me on an illness that struck when he was a young man, your age perhaps, before he became Weyrleader."

"Thank you for your sympathies, then."

"You should find the notes I sent back with him, in your records."

H'ric fetched a sigh as he sat down.

"I wish I could be as confident as you, Masterhealer, that they're still in the Weyr. I find the records have been kept very poorly."

Perera nodded. "I find the same here, unfortunately. Apart from the oldest records, which were preserved by the Ancients in a method we cannot now replicate, parchment and hide production has been much reduced in quality - as if - no one knew how to do it and had to learn afresh, and without deep knowledge."

"We have some records scored on stone which are useful, but they're mainly recipes and quantities for large meals, or records of tithes."

"And how can I help you, Weyrleader?"

H'ric relaxed at little, encouraged by this man's open manner and smile.

"I want to visit all the Craftmasters as well as the Lord Holders," he said. "To explain in person what has to be done, as far as I understand it."

"As far as you understand it?"

"I have been Weyrleader for barely four months."

"But you've been in training for it, surely, ever since you Impressed a bronze? There is always the possibility, is there not, that any bronze can mate the queen? The gold?"

"Yes, there is. I've always been trained as a leader, and I led a Wing before - this happened - "

"And now you are Weyrleader. With an experienced Weyrwoman and Headwoman to help you?"

"It might not be too much of a stretch to say both of them run the Weyr," H'ric said with a smile and a shake of the head. "They're a constant, you might say, where Weyrleaders come and go throughout the active life of the senior queen."

Perera nodded. "I have always surmised that to be true. And there is far more equality in a Weyr than in the Holds or Crafts. Much as I deprecate it, the attitude of men knowing best has gradually overcome all the equality I suspect was inherent in the early days of the Ancients when men first came to Pern."

"Are you allowed to speak of that?" B'rnel asked, and Perera glanced across at him.

"I would hope free speech always prevails on Pern, brown rider, but I cannot always be sure of it."

"How did you know I ride a brown?"

"There are three dragons on the heights, and you came in at your Weyrleader's shoulder, with the third of your group two paces behind. He is the rider of the green - which is a female - and you must be the brown rider."

B'rnel nodded his assent and Perera looked carefully at all three of them.

"You know the Lord Holders and Craftmasters declare there to be no more Thread? That the Weyrs suicided, as it were, to relieve the land of their upkeep?"

"I find that - very disturbing," H'ric replied. "To think that a species, bred to defend a planet, linked in mind with the riders, both of them sworn to defend lands and peoples, would willingly - extinguish themselves - "

Perera nodded. "I too find it mightily strange, Weyrleader. I might have expected that with low reproduction, and natural wastage, the Weyrs would diminish anyway, throughout an Interval. What do you think?"

"In the wine of Benden, riders say the other Weyrs went somewhere else to fight Thread. That's implicit in the Question Song, in the last verse _Have they flown to some new Weyr, where cruel Thread some others fear? Are they worlds away from here? Why, oh, why, the empty Weyr?_ Have they gone somewhere and will they return?"

"Ah. Will they return? That is your fear, is it not, Weyrleader, that they will not return, and Benden alone will have to fight a full Pass?"

"We have twenty six eggs hardening on the sands, and Haveneth is young enough to rise every Turn until then," H'ric replied.

"And the four junior queens will rise," B'rnel put in. "Bronze will mate with gold and produce more eggs."

"Will the gold dragons share the sands?" Perera asked in surprise.

"With some careful management, it can be done, so the Weyrwoman tells me."

"So then. Five or six Turns, shall we say, before the full fury is upon us? What can we at Healerhall do to help you?"

"Numbweed and fellis juice, and some experienced healers to come and reinforce the teachings we have at the Weyr. If there's any new learning to be had - "

Perera shook his head.

"The Lord Holders are very sure that all learning has been done, or brought north with us, and there is nothing more to be learned about the human body. I can tell them different, of course, but they will not countenance it. However, I will send to you two or three of my - shall we say - more rebellious spirits - for your education. I'll be glad to have them out of the Hall and out from under the suspicious gaze of Lord Holder Riasalt."

"We can fly them now, if they're ready," B'rnel said. "Our dragons are all mature beasts and capable of carrying an extra man and his baggage, if there isn't too much of that."

The Master Healer shook his head.

"Shall we say in two days time?"

"You can come back, M'nas, with G'las and P'tar," H'ric said at once. "Take the opportunity, all three of you, to learn the landmarks around the Halls and Hold."

M'nas nodded, and Perera looked from one to the other.

"That is kind of you, Weyrleader. I look forward to meeting the other riders. Where are you off to now? You must be careful, not to go _between_ too much in one day."

"I'd planned to go down to Ista and swim and rest," H'ric admitted. "As you say, too much travel can be draining, and a tired rider is a dangerous rider."

"A very sensible idea, I commend it. I will see you, green rider, in two days time, and I will search out any records I can find, Weyrleader, of the time at the end of the last Pass when the Weyrs left us. In the meantime - if I can be of assistance to you - if you feel troubled or overwhelmed - please feel free to come any time and speak to me. You are the most important cog in the wheel of fate at the moment, and it behoves us to keep you in good health."


	14. Chapter 14

So the first Turn ends, and there is no solution as yet to any of the problems in hand!

30.12.195 - 1.1.196

"Come and dance, H'ric!"

H'ric put down his goblet, came to his feet and took the Weyrwoman's hand. Turnover Feast was upon them, and the entire Weyr was celebrating with extravagant food and drink, new clothes, or at least those put by for a festival occasion, and song and dance.

Yorus swept a chord on his lap harp, M'nas tapped out the beat, and the two leaders danced in the great dining hall.

Someone started to sing the words to the catchy tune Yorus was playing, and the dancers joined in.

"_Dance with me my darling, my darling, my darling,_

_Dance with me my darling, my brave rider fair._

_All on a sunny morning, _

_So early in the Turn_

_The rider came to our hold _

_His actions brave and bold_

_Dance with me my darling, my darling, my darling,_

_Dance with me my darling, my brave rider fair._

_As he was coming in to land, _

_Our hold for to search, _

_Oh there he spied a bonnie girl_

_As pretty as a pearl_

_Dance with me my darling, my darling, my darling,_

_Dance with me my darling, my brave rider fair._

_Come to the Weyr with me, my lass,_

_Come stand upon the sands_

_Oh you will make a rider fine_

_A gold will be your sign_

_Dance with me my darling, my darling, my darling,_

_Dance with me my darling, my brave rider fair._

_And up upon his dragon's back_

_He set our lassie there_

_And if he stole a kiss or two_

_Well, who'd not a girlie woo_

_Dance with me my darling, my darling, my darling,_

_Dance with me my darling, my brave rider fair_."

H'ric stood and applauded at the end of the song, as many other riders did.

"I don't know why the Masterharper said he couldn't compose," H'ric said as they waited for the next dance.

"But that's not a song a holder would enjoy," Jiverny said with a laugh. "Can you imagine a harper singing that in a Hold? The Masterharper wants his harpers to compose songs for everyone."

"But that's not right," H'ric said, aware he had probably had a little too much to drink. "We should all share the songs, whether we approve of them or not."

"And this is just a lovely tune he's composed for a dance," Jiverny responded, and swept him into the steps of the next dance. H'ric reflected that he had always watched her dancing at Turnover and appreciated her nimbleness, and it was another key to this highly complex woman. Weyrwoman and leader, and he knew she had been destined to be a Holder's wife before she had been Searched. The ease of command had always been hers.

"You think too much," Jiverny said, poking him in the ribs as the dance ended. "Haveneth says it, and so do I. Come and have some seafood. I haven't cooked and eaten these dishes since I left Ista!"

H'ric eventually made his way to his weyr near dawn. He glanced up into the sky, and the Red Star was pulsing in menace to the north east, enough to sober any dragon rider.

_- it comes no closer_

"I know. I don't understand it.

_- go to sleep and it will become tomorrow's problem_

H'ric obeyed his dragon and crawled into bed, aware he would have a headache for days to come from the festivities, but it had been a release for all of them.

Jiverny's remedy and Mina's soothing midday meal meant H'ric was at least able to function the next day. He had declared the two Turnover days as festival, and the dragon riders had devised their own pleasures. He could see the weyrlings and weyrbrats in some sort of sporting competition on the feeding grounds, dragons watching from their ledges. Not enough dragons to fill all the weyrs, he thought, as he made his way to the dining hall to meet with Sharama and his two assistants from Healer Hall.

"Is that _klah_? I could drain the cauldron!"

Sharama laughed and filled a mug.

"Here you are. I expect the cobblers will be busy with new shoe leather for a week after all that dancing."

"It's good for a change. Like a gather."

"And bubbly pies," Nethmi said with a smile. He had not smiled at first, coming from Healer Hall where he had been a rebellious journeyman, but one Perera the Masterhealer valued highly, from the letter he had sent H'ric.

"Bubbly pies - no - I don't think I could stomach one of those at the moment."

"Heresy," Kalana murmured, the second journeyman Perera had sent to the Weyr.

"True. You wanted a word, Sharama?"

"We've been working on those fluxes the youngsters experienced," Sharama said. "I think it might be to do with the water, I think they've been swallowing the water when they cleaned their dragons."

H'ric frowned at him.

"All weyrlings do that, it's unavoidable."

"Not if you do it as a dare," Sharama replied briskly. "We've done some questioning, and we think that's what's happening."

"You've my permission to approach the Weyrling Master, then, and get him to issue a reprimand."

"Thanks. Once the water settles in the lake there's nothing wrong with it, so far as we can understand, but it's when it's roiled up and full of dragons, it goes bad."

"We don't understand enough," Kalana said bitterly. "I'm sure there's more in the Healer records that we don't access. It's as if we have to start again, in every generation, relearning."

"I can understand that with Pass and Interval," H'ric replied. "It's a thought I've always had, even at Crom, in the mines, that everything stops and stagnates for the Turns of a Pass. Yet why should it?"

"Because of hiding from Thread?"

"But that's why dragons were bred, to sear it from the skies before it reaches Pern. And the agenothree sprayers as well."

"It's not something easily put aside, the fear of Thread," Nethmi pointed out.

"And I wouldn't want it put aside! It was fear of Thread that drove the first development of dragons, and the system of Holds to keep people safe under rock and stone."

"The Red Star wasn't bracketed this time, though, when you sent out the watchers?" Sharama asked.

H'ric shook his head.

"I had watchers at all the Weyrs, and I intend to chart the Red Star's progress, marking each Turn on a sheet of parchment for each Weyr. It was off by several degrees, although everyone can see it's brighter, so it must be approaching closer to us."

"Even if it was bracketed, surely it's too small?" Nethmi asked. "I thought the song went - _the finger points, at an eye blood red_ - the Red Star as it is at the moment wouldn't fill the Eye Rock."

"I know. Five Turns or so in the future it might fill it."

Nethmi shook his head in frustration. "So much we have lost, just in two hundred Turns, merely because the other Weyrs took their records with them. Oh well. I've been working with the women here, they know a lot of different things about wounds and such like. The skin heals itself, so the less interference the better!"

H'ric nodded. "That's excellent. Make sure the women know all you can teach them, but take heed of their own knowledge and recipes."

"I will do. I've been writing some of it down - when I can get parchment."

He looked hopefully at the Weyrleader, and H'ric made a note for himself.

"A visit to the Tannercraft Hall, then. I might go myself, I've not been there, and I could combine it with another visit to Igen Weyr. I do wish we had something else to write on - even those bits of bark the children use for scribbling, if they could be preserved?"

Sharama shook his head.

"I've tried it, but the only way to preserve it is to bury it in mud, and then of course you have to get it out and wash it to read it!"

H'ric laughed as they finished the _klah_ and prepared to go their separate ways.

"Transparent mud, and surely we could make that? We seem to be making everything else new!"

H'ric stood at the Star Stones and watched the sun going down in the west. It was cold up here, and the constant wind blew his hair about, but he turned and stood watching the Red Star brighten in the darkening sky. The sun was bannered in purple and gold, a beautiful sight in the winter sky, but he was looking up at the Red Star.

"Why don't we know more about you?" he muttered. "Why don't we know where you come from, where you pick up your deadly cargo, and how to stop you?"

_- we cannot go there_

H'ric turned to look at Galanath

"Why would we want to go?"

_- to burn the Thread there on the Red Star, to stop it coming down_

H'ric rubbed his chin as he considered that suggestion.

"There's no landmarks."

_- and without them we cannot go there_

"I wonder if anyone ever tried?"

_- there were always enough dragons to fight Thread_

"And there is the nub of it, my fighting friend. Even if you and the other bronzes mated all the golds from here to the end of the Interval, we won't have enough dragons."

_- the golds did not rise as often as they should, in the past_

"Mmm. I searched all the Weyrleader records, and the golds should have been laying twenty to thirty eggs each Turn for at least the last ten, or possibly twenty, Turns. It's not as if we can't count the Turns to the next Pass!"

_- it is not for us to know why this neglect, but to work through it_

H'ric heaved a sigh and walked over to Galanath, rubbing his eye ridges as they watched the sun vanish over the western horizon, and the stars become more visible, the two moons low in the sky as yet.

"Do the best you can, and don't worry about the rest, my father always used to say. It's strange, how I can remember some of what he said, and his voice, but I can't always remember his face, or that of my mother."

_- then you will do your best, although everyone in the Weyr knows you are a worrier_

"Cheek!" H'ric was laughing as he climbed to Galanath's back and the dragon back winged off the ridge and circled to come down to the warmth of the weyr again.


	15. Chapter 15

Thank you for your reviews so far, and enjoying the story. I have not made too much of the hatching because it is covered extensively in canon stories.

14.1.196

An urgent thrumming, felt through the soles of his boots even this deep into the storage caverns of the Weyr roused H'ric and the Headwoman Lavand from their counting and checking.

"Hatching!" Lavand cried. "I didn't think it would be today!"

"Nor did I!"

They both set out at a run, H'ric making for the Hatching Grounds and Lavand to the kitchens to make sure there was enough raw meat for the new dragonets, and that the evening meal would be something special.

"I didn't know!" H'ric fumed.

- _it has come early but there is plenty of time_

H'ric emerged, blinking in the stormy daylight. As if to emphasise the unusual tenor of the day, snow drifted down from a leaden sky, already coating the weyr ledges with white.

H'ric bounded into his weyr and took time to have a hasty wash down, drying himself and dressing in the outfit Jiverny had made for him. White shirt, green trousers and jacket, trimmed with tawny fur, and a pair of new boots. He stamped them on, pausing to admire the deep sheen of the polished leather. The Tannercrafters could make leather boots like this but not durable parchment, he thought irrelevantly, then he was hurrying down to join the Weyrwoman and their important guests.

"Why today?" he hissed.

"I don't know. I thought it would be at least another day! Good day to you, Lord Holder Arun."

H'ric turned to greet the Lord Holder of Benden. He had issued invitations to all the Holders, but only Benden and Telgar had responded, and had been here for a couple of days, interested in seeing the activities of the Weyr. Even Bitra and Lemos, his other particular responsibilities, had declined. Masterhealer Perera was here, however, stepping out of the crowd of weyrfolk. H'ric had left the organisation of the collection and return of their guests to C'lin and the Wingleader had not disappointed him, even wringing supplies out of those who declined his invitations, so that, as he assured them, the guests at the Weyr would know of their generosity.

"Greetings, Weyrleader, Weyrwoman. An auspicious day for Benden and indeed for Pern as a whole!"

"Thank you, Lord Arun," Jiverny responded graciously, and they led the way into the Hatching Grounds. It was uncomfortably warm in here, and H'ric glanced along the benches to make sure everyone was seated. The Weyrlingmaster and Candidate Master had begun bringing the Candidates in, and H'ric spared a thought for how young and frail they looked, dwarfed by the massive shapes of the dragons as they gathered on the ledges, humming deep in their throats, multi-faceted eyes fixed on their Queen and her brood of eggs.

Jiverny had gone down to supervise the six girls selected to try and Impress the gold. She at least looked cool and calm, and the girls were responding, having been nervous and ill at ease before her arrival, despite their familiarity with the Weyr and the people gathered all around. The Queen Candidates who did not succeed would have a chance at other Impressions, and H'ric knew Jiverny thought Panath would rise soon and have a modest clutch.

"This is kind of you to invite me," Lord Cantin said. "This is the first Impression I've attended. Ah - there are the two boys from Telgar!"

He leaned forward to see the two well grown youths. H'ric knew the Candidate Master had hopes they would both impress brown, but it was impossible to know what eggs contained which colour, as the Candidates were repeatedly warned.

The eggs were rocking now, and the boys grouped themselves where they could see and be seen. The queen egg cracked first, however, and the dragons' hum grew louder as the gold, their potential mate of the future, staggered free of the egg membrane. H'ric thought the young dragonet had already made a choice in the egg, because she dipped a wing to the sands, freed it, and fell over at the feet of a tall lithe young woman, one of the two from Fort, and Impression was made.

After that it was a chaos of breaking shells and creeling youngsters, the ecstatic cries of the youths as they made Impression and spoke their dragons' names for the first time. H'ric glanced up at Haveneth on her upper ledge, and the Queen was watching as fiercely as the dragon riders, it seemed, and even reached to nudge one youth forward to get a better view of one of the hatching dragons. The boy stumbled, fell to his knees, reached out, and embraced the still wet neck of the bronze dragon, and H'ric was sure Haveneth gave a satisfied hum of approval.

"And now they are a race apart," Lord Arun said softly, nodding his head. "Sworn to protect Pern."

"Indeed, my lord, that is so," H'ric replied, still shaken by his own reaction and recall of the way he and Galanath had Impressed.

"It is - quite wonderful - to see it - as it is in the ballads," the Masterhealer said from where he had been making quick notes. "I see some injuries - nothing serious?"

"Scratches and perhaps some grazes, but they heal quickly. The young dragons will be fed now, so if you want to follow me? A glass of something rich and red from your vineyards, my lord, is called for, I think?"

He shepherded them out, joining the weyr folk whose sons and foster sons had Impressed.

"Every Candidate can stand at least three times, Weyrleader?" Lord Cantin asked. "So even if they did not Impress this time, they can remain in the Weyr?"

"Yes, they remain."

"And if they are never a dragon's choice?"

"There's plenty of work, crafting, training, in the Weyr."

"Yes, you seem relatively self sufficient," the Masterhealer agreed. "Were it not for the fact that you live in such an inhospitable land, there would be farming to be done?"

H'ric nodded. "It's a trade-off. The dragons need the huge spaces of Benden Weyr, but because it was once an active volcano, even now only the lower slopes are able to be grazed. Up here - well - you saw it when you overflew it as the dragons brought you in."

"It was an amazing sight, to see these stark mountains, and realise how many people live in the valleys, and then to come into the Bowl of the Weyr and find this thriving community. May it continue to thrive, Weyrleader, under able leadership."

H'ric bowed his acknowledgement of that compliment and brought his guests into the Records Room where he wanted to show them the progress of the Red Star and take the opportunity to conference with them.


	16. Chapter 16

The time intervals between each chapter will begin to stretch out now, because there's a lot of time to cover before reaching the supposed end of the Interval, and unless you want a book of roughly 200k words, I will just touch on the important action.

2.2.196

_- Panath rises_

H'ric straightened from his work and stared at his dragon

"Panath? Er - which dragon - "

- _they will do well together_

"Did you know she would rise today? Hence the urgent need for me, and only me, to come and supervise all this?"

His arm wave took in the firestone mines and the youths competently bagging and weighing the stuff. H'ric had come to negotiate a price with the miners, although he privately wondered what he would do if they refused to deal; dragons were the only customers for firestone, and he needed to increase the stocks held at each empty Weyr under the plans he and the Wingleaders had put in place.

- _Cirith rises_

H'ric looked thoughtfully at his bronze; if Galanath had been at Benden, he would have been unable to help himself from rising, and perhaps spoiling the chances of Cirith to mate with the junior Queen and start a new line of dragons.

"Is everything all right, Weyrleader? The quality of the firestone?"

H'ric snapped back into focus on the miner.

"It's fine, thank you, Crosin. You found a new seam, they tell me?"

"Yes, but there's no telling, of course, how far it will twist into the mountains. We put the whers in there at night to check the tunnels for snakes and falls and suchlike."

"You find them useful for that?"

"Nothing better! Oh, I know they ain't dragons, but Sisilisk has bonded with Pentil over there, and she's had two or three clutches of eggs already. There's always a market at Holds for a watch-wher."

"And wild ones?"

Crosin shrugged. "There are wild bands, no doubt about that, because my predecessor wasn't so careful of the golds and greens, letting them go into the wild to hatch their eggs. But at a very young age, I'd guess a lot of them would fall prey to wherries, dratted creatures that they are."

"But useful in the way of hide and feather?"

Crosin grinned at him. "Always something on the bright side, isn't there, Weyrleader? Shall we go and see about the quality of this latest batch of firestone?"

H'ric agreed to that, sending a thought to Galanath to keep him in touch with the Weyr and the mating flight. He fretted that the weyrlings would be affected by the very adult emotions swirling around them, but there were procedures for that eventuality.

"Try this fruit wine, would you, Weyrleader? This far north, we have to grow the crops under glass, but we manage to make a decent drop, I think."

H'ric took a glass and sipped, and agreed it was a drinkable wine.

"Under glass, you say?"

"Aye. There's a bit of land not given over to mining, and we grow cereals and quick crop greens on that, and just this season we've put up a glasshouse against the south facing slopes." He shrugged as he looked out onto the desolate scene of mining, dirty, treeless, devoid of anything of beauty. "It helps, for the men to go and do a bit of gardening. Keeps them sane, as you might say."

H'ric forebore to ask him if any of his miners were criminals or slaves. It was not his business how the Lord Holders and Holders disposed of their unwanted thieves, or what they did if they rounded up any recalcitrant Holdless.

H'ric ate his evening meal at the mines, speaking to the miners, assuring them the dragons would always Search for suitable candidates all over the planet. After he had seen the first of the wagons beginning to wend their way to the Weyr, halfway across the continent, H'ric and Galanath rose into the sky preparing to return to Benden, six hours ahead of them, secure in the knowledge that the mating flight was over, and all emotions would be calm. Galanath had timed it to arrive at High Reaches in the middle of the morning, and came into Benden as the first distinct stars showed in the winter sky.

They landed on their ledge and H'ric began taking the harness off his dragon.

"M'dor and Cirith were successful," Jiverny said from behind him. H'ric paused and then turned around, seeing the Weyrwoman carried an open glowbasket which lit her face with an eerie glow.

"I'm glad of that," he said, speaking carefully, because there had been an edge to Jiverny's voice.

"It was a close run thing, L'rens and Siccith nearly won."

H'ric frowned at her.

"Would that have been a disaster?"

"It depends on what you have planned for the junior queen."

H'ric hitched the harness over his shoulder and followed Jiverny into his weyr.

"We discussed this," H'ric said as he slid the harness onto a bench for checking later, and began to strip off his flying gear. "We planned to allow them to get used to Telgar Weyr with a wing that will be effective against Thread. Are you fretting over Haveneth sharing the sands with a junior gold?"

The Hatching grounds have been cleaned out," Jiverny replied. "You know that, and I don't think any of the queens will clash with their hatchings."

H'ric watched Jiverny moving around the weyr with small jerky movements, picking things up, putting them down. He walked across and took her in his arms.

"What's the matter, lady mine?" he murmured. "Are you angry because Galanath insisted we should be away from the Weyr? He's a clever piece, that dragon of mine, but I hadn't realised it would upset you so much."

"I missed you," she said unexpectedly. "I was busy with the gold candidates, and we were all linked in a way with Panath as she rose - I missed you."

H'ric kissed her cheek.

"I'm sorry, I should have arranged for you to come, we could have flown straight somewhere far enough away -"

Jiverny gave an uncertain laugh.

"Listen to me, behaving like a green rider on heat!"

There was only one sensible answer to that, and, being careful of her heavily pregnant body, H'ric made it.


	17. Chapter 17

A bit of action to spice up the proceedings!

3.2.196 - 13.2.196

Despite all his figuring, H'ric could not find a way to take Jiverny to Telgar to examine the deserted Weyr. Instead, he flew with her direct to the western beaches of Benden. Clad in warm clothing, with the dragons disporting themselves in the freezing ocean, they spent time together, talking over their plans, discussing the food situation at the Weyr. Jiverny had approved the idea of trying to grow quick salad greens in the warmer weather, and they had seeds promised from the Lord Holder.

"What lies beyond this ocean?" Jiverny asked.

"They say there's another land - maybe a series of islands - over that way. Fly high enough, and you can see over the curve of the horizon and sight land."

"And - to the south?"

H'ric glanced to the south and shrugged.

"That land is uninhabitable, so the stories go. I don't know how big it is, no one knows now, in this time. Presumably big enough for the people to land and begin a life there, before the First Pass? Big enough to begin to breed the dragons?"

"And then we all came north, and found these places."

"Ista must be a lot warmer, even in winter, than Benden?"

"Yes, but we have the hot rocks warming us at Benden."

She walked a little way, staring out to sea, and then turned to look at him again.

"I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I hadn't been in the right place on Search."

"We all wonder that one, lady mine! If not that search, then another, perhaps, and a different dragon?"

"Weyr lore states only one dragon suits one rider."

H'ric stood thinking about that, watching Galanath sporting in the waves. Haveneth had found a series of rockpools and was exploring them with her forepaws, clawing through the seaweed and sand and small stones.

"Yes. That's what the lore says. So would Haveneth have gone _between_ if you hadn't been there? Or would she have accepted second best?"

Jiverny slipped her hand under his elbow.

"Impossible to know," she conceded. "My father had an elderly watch-wher - it must have hated all that heat and light, because he built it a special hut, sealed against the light. I used to go and talk to it."

H'ric glanced at her.

"Which is what the dragons would have sensed when they were on Search, I suppose?"

"And you spoke to Teneth?"

"Yes."

"What did he say - can I ask - what were his last thoughts?"

H'ric was silent for a long time, and Jiverny came round to look at him, and tears were sliding slowly down his face.

"Oh! Oh I didn't mean - H'ric - don't!"

"It's all right. Really, it's all right. I should say it aloud - "

"Does Galanath know?"

"I suppose he must. We've never discussed it. Teneth said - _I am no more than a shadow-thing, I must go where this grief cannot consume me, but I will take my rider with me and perhaps we will share all time together_."

Jiverny stared out to sea. "A shadow-thing. That's - probably a good description of a rider who loses his dragon as well. You'd live in the shadow of that grievous loss for the rest of your life, wouldn't you? If you chose to survive?"

"If you chose to survive? Isn't the human instinct to survive greater than the loss, even of a dragon?"

"I wouldn't know, and I don't want to know."

H'ric hugged her close.

"No, we don't need to speculate on it, but it's a thing that lies in the mind of all riders I suppose. Let's go and see what Haveneth has found in those pools - the tide will make it all right again when it washes back in."

They flew back to the Weyr with some spider-claws, and Galanath declared he had caught fish to eat. They landed and H'ric called for _klah_ and hot food for Jiverny.

"I have to go, lady mine," he said apologetically.

"Yes, you go on, H'ric, I've some work to do on my own account."

"Be careful. Is Mima still pleased with your progress?"

"Yes of course. H'ric - I might not have any other children, you know. Your children, I mean?"

He looked startled, and almost offended.

"Your body is your own, Weyrwoman! No, I didn't mean that - I mean - if you only have one child, then that's the way it goes. Don't forget - we can't exactly raise this one ourselves - have you thought of that?"

Jiverny nodded.

"I've talked it through with Lavand and Mima. I don't think we'll lack for foster parents. But I didn't mean to offend you - for all I know you might have half a dozen weyrbrats by now!"

She laughed, an unsteady laugh, and H'ric gave her a hug.

"No, I don't," he murmured. "Galanath might have risen any time these last ten years, and I might have found a willing companion, but there's no weyrbrat down in the Caverns claiming me as their father, as yet."

Jiverny wiped her eyes.

"Take no notice of me," she said. "I don't know where all these maudlin thoughts are coming from!"

H'ric hugged her again, kissed her gently, and left reluctantly, but like Jiverny, he had duties, and looking to Telgar Weyr was one of them, and he knew M'dor and C'lin were waiting for him with M'dor's wing, the dragons that would look particularly to Telgar in the Pass to come, and they needed to go and check it over and decide what supplies would be needed.

A dozen dragons winked into existence over the empty bowl of Telgar Weyr, and circled, peering down into its abandoned depths. The lake shone where the sun struck it, just rising over the eastern wall, throwing the elongated shadow of the Star Stones forward into the Weyr. There was no sign as yet of the herdbeasts Lord Cantin had promised, but H'ric reflected that with winter still on them, and a particularly cold one at that, it would be irresponsible to drive the cattle yet.

"Do we go down?" C'lin shouted, and H'ric nodded his assent. M'dor made a circling sweeping descent, and came down on the feeding grounds, both dragon and rider looking around, then M'dor signalled, and the rest of the dragons came gliding in and settled on the grass. H'ric could see Galanath's claws sinking deep and was satisfied there would be enough grass for grazing herdbeasts in here. The bowl was warmer than he had expected, cut off from the winds scouring the mountain peaks.

"This looks good," M'dor said approvingly as he came out of what appeared to be a trance, but the other riders knew was a moment spent relaying his impressions via Cirith and Panath to Alissia. It was too soon to know if the junior queenrider was expecting a child, but Mima and Jiverny had been firmly opposed to the pair flying _between_ to Telgar.

"There's plenty of room," C'lin agreed. "You could pick the warmest south-facing weyrs without competition. You've a dozen experienced riders now, and the gold, and a share of the weyrlings coming into training."

"Lord Cantin indicated he would be pleased to provide drudges," H'ric confirmed as he stripped off his helmet and gloves, deciding to keep his jacket on for now.

"The weyrs are so smoothly formed," D'rian, M'dor's Wingsecond said in wonder. "How did they get them so smooth?"

"This was founded right back in the olden days," C'lin said dismissively. "They had machines to bore the rocks back then, they didn't have to use pickaxes like today's miners."

R'iari, another brown rider, had been walking across the bowl to the nearest opening, presumably to the kitchen caverns, and now stopped short, sniffed at the air, and bent and rubbed at the ground at his feet. He turned and came loping back towards them.

"There's been someone in those caverns recently, Weyrleader. I could smell old smoke, and the residue of bodies. There's blood on the grass, as if they'd slaughtered animals."

Every rider drew their weapon, and the dragons' eyes began to whirl into yellow and red.

H'ric studied the blood and decided it was at least a few days old. The tunnel leading to the outside world showed dark and forbidding and he called for one of the glowbaskets they had brought with them. Uncovering it, he advanced under its low light level into the tunnel, glimpsing the bright spark at the end. He could smell the residue of bodies in here, and wondered if in fact the people who used the place used just the tunnel.

Coming back out he voiced it aloud, and C'lin studied the bowl of the Weyr.

"They wouldn't need to come in here," he conceded. "The tunnel would be adequate shelter."

"So is it human blood?" D'rian asked, and they turned and stared at him, and then at the spots of blood.

"Wounded," M'dor said thoughtfully. "That suggests outlawry, rather than just straightforward Holdless wanderers."

"Either way, they aren't here at the moment," C'lin said, and walked towards the kitchen area again.

None of them were prepared for the animals that exploded out of the darkened entrance. H'ric had time to see they were probably canines, before three of them hurled themselves at C'lin, going for the throat and face. Two more raced at R'iari who had followed C'lin, but he had time to throw up his arm to fend them off.

H'ric ran forward with his long knife, slashing at the animals worrying at R'ari's arm. Blood spurted over men and beasts, as H'ric tried to find a place to wound the animals. He was aware of shouting and the clash of steel, and then he had managed to pry one animal off R'iari, stabbing it through the open snarling mouth as it turned on him. R'iari had rolled onto the second beast to prevent it kicking his stomach open, and was pressing his damaged arm down across its throat as it choked and kicked its life out.

A huge shadow swept across the Weyr and Vereneth landed next to his rider, leaned and snapped the canines' bodies with his teeth, tossing them off. He set up a keening lament that grated on H'ric's senses, but it was not the full-bodied lament of a riderless dragon.

"J'mal! Get the healers from Benden! Now!"

J'mal ran for his blue and the two vanished as H'ric looked across at the cavern entrance. M'dor and D'rian were fighting three men, but Vereneth, with a roar of fury, snaked his head forward and his slashing jaws laid one of the men out, brutally injured, H'ric was sure. There were other men, he could see, and he and other riders raced to meet them, but Vereneth, thoroughly roused, was wading in to knock them away from the riders. They turned and ran down the safety of the entrance tunnel, and Vereneth turned back to croon to his rider.

H'ric spared a glance at the man Vereneth had thrown, but he was dead, as were the two animals which had attacked R'iari. M'dor had overpowered his two attackers and had them under guard. H'ric hurried to C'lin, seeing the dreadful injuries to his face and arms.

He was blotting away blood when the utter cold of a breath of _between_ heralded the reappearance of J'mal with the healers. Normally H'ric would have reprimanded him for timing it so close to his own flight out, but he was too glad to see Sharama and Nethmi drop from the dragon and come running.

"A fire and hot water if you can manage it," Sharama snapped, and the riders hurried into the cavern where they found a fire recently doused, only needing some of the firewood piled nearby to bring it back to a blaze. An iron pot held something savoury, and there was also a kettle that H'ric swung over the flames, uncovering the extra glowbaskets J'mal had brought.

"I know I shouldn't have, Weyrleader - "

"You did right, this time, J'mal. Be careful going back, though, not to tangle yourself in the time lines."

J'mal nodded agreement, and began foraging, finding bedding the healers could use, and taking the first bowls of hot water outside. Vereneth was still moaning his low lament, an unnerving sound to every dragon and its rider.

H'ric tasted the broth or stew, decided it was palatable, and found a place on the crude hearth for it. The raiders had not started up a fire in the ranges he could see in the dusty abandoned kitchens, merely lit a fire between stones on the floor. H'ric did not envy the drudges who would have to bring this place back to full working order.

He came outside and went across to the healers. R'iari sat near them, his coat sleeve cut off, and dressings put on the stitched wounds on his arm. He had been given fellis juice, H'ric could see, and he pressed his shoulder as he passed to look at C'lin.

Sharama looked up at him.

"I think we've saved his eyes," he said grimly. "These facial scars will be ferocious when they've healed. His arm is snapped in two places, but that will mend. Luckily he was wearing a thick scarf around his throat otherwise - I think he'd be dead."

Vereneth moaned in grief and H'ric stepped up to his gigantic head.

"Vereneth! He will live! We must all be strong for him!"

The dragon did not answer him, but the dreadful nerve-jangling lament ceased, and Nethim drew a shaky breath as he dressed the broken arm.

- _shall we catch those men outside the Weyr_?

"I don't think it's necessary," H'ric said aloud. "They won't stop running until they hit the southern coast, I shouldn't think." He looked up and Galanath was perched on the crest of the Weyr, his bronze hide shimmering like gold as he surveyed the land beyond.

"There's all sorts of stuff in the caverns, Weyrleader," J'mal reported as he brought out bowls of broth for the riders. "Clothing and weapons and what looks like trade goods."

"Ranath mentioned a group of outlaws," H'ric said thoughtfully. "Sharama, can you cope here if I go to Telgar to alert the Lord Holder?"

"Yes. I don't want to move these two for at least another hour."

"Is he awake?"

Sharama shook his head. "He won't wake for a while, but it's not life threatening. By all means, go and tell the Lord Holder."

Both healers looked up at him.

"Is this better or worse than it will be in the Pass?" Nethmi asked.

"I don't know," H'ric replied. "In all honesty, I don't know, because we've not encountered Thread, and what injuries riders sustain in an Interval are mostly broken bones or those related to old age."

Nethmi nodded, viewing C'lin's ruined face, and H'ric went to fetch his riding gear and summon Galanath to take him to Telgar Hold, thinking grimly that Thread could not come soon enough, to drive the Holdless and the outlaws under cover, or kill them off altogether.


	18. Chapter 18

Parenthood must have the same anxieties even if you are telepathically linked to something ten times your size!

1.5.196

H'ric paced up and down on the ledge of his weyr. Jiverny had gone into labour hours ago and still there was no signal that she had given birth. Galanath had taken up station at the Star Stones, and was crouched up there, a massive bronze statue. Haveneth was fussing in the Hatching Grounds although Panath's clutch would not be laid for at least two months.

"No news is good news, I suppose," B'rnel said, coming out onto the ledge with a mug of _klah_. "For pity's sake, you'll wear out your shoe leather!"

"I never felt like this before."

"Well, that's reasonable, you never had this anxiety before."

"Have you?"

B'rnel stared at him. "Have I what? Oh - waited for any child of mine to be born? H'ric, old pal, I don't know if I've any weyrbrats, and that's a fact. Mima thinks there might be three that might put a claim on me, but their mothers never did."

H'ric sipped at the _klah_, staring out over the Weyr. "It's stupid, because women birth children all the time."

"This is your child, and that is your Weyrwoman," B'rnel pointed out, topping up the _klah_, and not mentioning that Sharama had added a small dose of some decoction into it. "Come and sit down, stop pacing like this, everyone can see you, and get anxious because of it."

He led his friend and foster brother into the weyr and made him sit down on the upholstered chair Lord Arun had sent at midwinter as a gift.

H'ric rubbed his hand over the rich fabric and sighed and relaxed at little.

"Sorry! Yes, I suppose it makes it difficult that Jiverny's the Weyrwoman and if anything happened to her - but other gold riders have had children, surely?"

"Yes, of course they have. And M'dor will go through this when Alissia births their child, I expect. But I agree, it's a difficult time. Did you hear from Lord Cantin, by the way, about those outlaws?"

"What? Oh yes, he wrote just the other week. It's taken him three months, but he thinks he's cleared all of them out of his land, aided by the dragons, of course."

"And your friend Ranath?"

H'ric shrugged as he put his mug down.

"I've written to him a couple of times, and although he hasn't replied directly, Lord Cantin says he doesn't harbour any ill-feeling any more. I had him investigated, you know, and he was friends with my mother's family. My uncles told me that."

He fell silent again, brooding, staring into the depths of his empty mug.

"I don't think people realise, that a man who Impresses a dragon is a man apart. He gives up his family, and lives in the Weyr family."

"I'm sure that's right, although a lot of riders do visit their birth families now and again. But I suppose a rider doesn't need his birth family?"

H'ric did not look up.

"I'd have liked to take my child to show my parents."

B'rnel sighed. "That's a useless dream, old pal, and you know it. The Weyr will be all the family your child knows, but he or she will get no less love and respect because of it."

H'ric jumped to his feet and began to pace again, and as if it had been a signal, Jiverny began to cry out in earnest in her weyr, and both men waited uselessly for what seemed like hours, before there was a tense silence and then the wail of a newborn child. H'ric seemed frozen to the spot, and B'rnel hurried to the Weyrwoman's quarters, and came back with a huge smile.

"A boy! They all look tiny and crumpled, but he'll be fine - Mima knows these things."

"A boy?"

"A potential dragon rider! Maybe a bronze, eh? You'll be starting a new line of Weyrleaders."

"They don't go in families, do they?"

"I don't know! They might do, and this one might follow you one day."

Mima beckoned him into the weyr and H'ric followed her warily, seeing Jiverny on her bed, clasping a small bundle. She looked shockingly pale to his eyes, but she was smiling, a new kind of smile, as he leaned over and kissed her cheek.

"Here he is. Jerenic. Your son."

"Our son," he corrected her, and stroked a finger in wonder over a tiny fist, over a delicate cheek. "I never had any brothers or sisters, there was only ever me for my parents to fuss over."

"Well, this one will be fussed over, I guarantee you that, lovey," Mima said briskly from behind him. "You can have five minutes, and then the Weyrwoman must rest a little more."

H'ric sat down and stroked Jiverny's hand, and she smiled at him.

"It's quite different from Impression," she said. "This is - different - this is our child - we hold him only for a little while until he becomes himself."

"Has Havenenth spoken to you?"

"She has now. She stayed silent during the birth, but I could sense her in my mind, of course. Galanath?"

"He's sitting up by the Star Stones, but he's - certain - he says - this is a bronze rider!"

Jiverny laughed. "So does Havenenth! I told her she could not be so certain, she wasn't a Searching blue, but she just said complacently she was better than any Searching blue!"

"I'm sure she is, and just as proud of you as I am."

He kissed her again, and left the weyr, coming back into his own where Mima was sitting with B'rnel.

"There won't be no others, Weyrleader," she said formally.

"I guessed so. You'll be able to advise her?"

"I will do at that. There's ways, and we'll make sure she stays safe for many a long year yet, at your side."

"I was always in such awe of her - so cool and remote - "

"That's because she's older than us," B'rnel said. "Ahead of us in the training, of course, and a queen rider when we were still only weyrbrats."

He left the weyr, and Mima looked at H'ric.

"He didn't see what you meant, lovey."

"I know. I always looked at her and saw the Weyrwoman, never Jiverny herself. It's just - R'tin had to die for me to find her true worth."

Mima heaved herself to her feet and gathered up the empty mugs.

"Never you fret over it, it's the way of the world, and not something we need question. You're the leaders of the Weyr now, and you're both of you good leaders. Just be sure that dragon of yours doesn't get too fat and lazy to perform his next mating flight!"

H'ric laughed out loud, and Mima patted his head.

"Yes, and he just said rude words about me I'm sure! You get some rest yourself, now, because it can be as frightening for a man as for the woman."

H'ric went out onto the ledge and Galanath had just landed and was making himself comfortable. He swung his great head, his eyes whirling blue and green with contentment, and H'ric went and embraced that great head, scratching his eye ridges and letting go of his tension and anxieties in the mind-embrace of his dragon.


	19. Chapter 19

So another year/Turn passes - will H'ric and his dragon still be top of the pecking order?

1.7.196 - 2.8.196

H'ric stood staring up at the night sky. He had become Weyrleader at the same time in the previous Turn, and still there was no sign of the Red Star being bracketed in the Star Stones. It was bright enough now to be seen faintly by day if the sun was hidden by a storm cloud, but it grew no larger.

- _Haveneth is restless_

- I know. Is she due to rise?

- _only she will know that, but it will be soon_

- Panath has hatched her eggs, and Bedlith rose as well, this Turn. I didn't expect Amroth to fly her, he's the oldest bronze after Vereneth

- _Vereneth has no heart to mate any more_

H'ric heaved a sigh and shook his head; C'lin's wounds had healed, leaving fearsome scars as Sharama had warned, but C'lin's long-term weyrmate, Susali from the lower caverns, did not seem to heed them. C'lin had grown morose and silent, but he was still the best at devising the aerial ballets the dragons and their riders used as exercise, with or without firestone.

- the queens are not rising as often as I had thought.

- _they know more than we do_

- there will be few dragons to fight Thread

- _we will be ready, but your lady comes_

H'ric broke off his communion with his dragon and turned as Jiverny came out onto the ledge. She had spent all day with the baby Jerenic, as he had spent part of it. They went once or twice a week, more if they could spare the time, to be with the child, rising three months now, and a contented baby amongst a great many others born of the mating time around Havenenth's first wild flight with Galanath.

"Did you get him to sleep?" H'ric asked with a grin.

"Eventually, yes. Goodness, he was determined to be awake! That pretty shell mobile you made him fascinates him! It sends the others to sleep, he seems determined to listen to it all day and all night."

H'ric laughed and put an arm around her. He had made many little toys for their son, but at Mima's urging, and Sharama's orders, had gone down to Ista's beaches with Jiverny for a spell. H'ric knew he went _between_ too often, as Sharama told him, but he still criss-crossed the land trying to gain support, trying to reassure the minor holders there would be enough dragons to sear Thread at the end of the Interval, trying to squeeze an extra tithe or two, hunting as well to supplement the food in the Weyr.

They had bathed and lazed and slept at Ista, Jiverny's family had made them a hut on the beach and provided a small skiff to sail the bay, and H'ric collected the beautifully shaped shells to make a mobile. They had also collected bags of sand for the Hatching grounds and the anticipated eggs of the junior queens.

"Alissia says the drudges have finally made the lower caverns at Telgar habitable."

"Good. I didn't envy them, but it's work and wages for them, I suppose."

"I wish the Lord Holders would look at it that way."

They turned to go indoors and Galanath, who had been at the other end of the ledge, shuffled his great bulk and cut off the night sky as the two riders went to their bed.

H'ric came out of his weyr in a hurry the next day at the sound of the excited bronzes bugling their challenges. He watched in awe as Haveneth, glowing, glided down to the feeding ground and chased down one and then another of the panicking herdbeasts.

- _be ready_

H'ric did not need his bronze's call. He was already joining the other bronze riders in the Weyrwoman's rooms. Possession of the title of Weyrleader counted for nothing at a time like this, and he found himself jostled and pushed by L'rens, whose bronze Sicceth had nearly flown Panath. Only C'lin was not present, and H'ric realised, in the last sane part of his mind, that Vereneth had not risen to challenge the other bronzes.

There was a scream of anticipation from dragon throats, and Havenenth rose from the feeding grounds, wings pumping as she circled and spiralled up above the weyr, catching a thermal that swept her out over the heated mountains. The summer had been very hot and dry, and the black volcanic rock still retained heat. H'ric/Galanath saw a flock of wherries scatter in fear, and then he/they were straining upwards, flipping a wing to drop from above, sliding under Haveneth as she banked away from Sicceth, as she turned to pick up another thermal, rising higher in the thinner colder air, and then with a strong beat of the wings he/they had picked a stronger thermal, risen, and fallen onto the still rising queen, straddling her, their necks twining together, and H'ric/Galanath were as one with the queen.


	20. Chapter 20

Life in a Weyr might seem exotic and strange to outsiders, but I suspect that like much of the life everyone lives, there are times when it just jogs along and doesn't amount to much.

16.8.196

C'lin paused by H'ric's side as the Weyrleader sketched the young dragons and their riders in training.

"Doesn't Galanath get confused with you filling your eye with impressions like these?" His voice was slurred by reason of the attack at Telgar in the early part of the Turn.

H'ric shook his head. "He tells me he can tell them apart, and so far I've never doubted him. How are you, C'lin?"

"I could be better," the bronze rider said evenly. "What would you? D'you still need me? Then I'll continue to serve the Weyr."

"You know you're senior Wingleader," H'ric replied. "I saw you with Sharama - are you going to help out with the land games he's devising?"

"Yes, I said I would. Lavand came and told me the women of the lower caverns want to compete as well. I said I'd work out some races and throwing competitions for them. Handling those stores and supplies, they can probably throw a short spear further than a man by now."

H'ric grinned. "I'm sure they could. And the weyrbrats?"

"Yes, we'll have some little games for them. Aren't you afraid it'll distract the riders from their real purpose?"

H'ric studied his sketches and then closed his notebook. He shook his head, glancing up into the north east.

"No, I'm not afraid of that. I worry they won't stay alert, which is why we need these diversions for them. Flying patrol over the Holds is good for them as well, to appreciate how large the land is."

"M'dor reported the death of Lord Holder Lacalan of Telgar?"

"Yes he did, and I went to the funeral, as you know. Cantin is going to be a loyal friend to us, but I won't count his successors as allies until I know them better. He's fostering two sons from Fort, and they're - jumped up little tunnel snakes."

"Yes, so M'dor said. Well, you'll be able to send some new riders to Telgar soon, and if Bedlith's clutch is a good size - are they for Igen?"

"I know it's not a hospitable place, and they probably can't settle it permanently, but all that wing will certainly know every point of that desert by the end of the Interval."

"I'll supervise the guests for the Impression," C'lin said abruptly after a moment, and H'ric nodded his thanks. They would be putting on a feast, and with a good harvest at the three main Holds, H'ric was confident they would be able to put food away in the stores as well for the coming winter. The tubs of greens had been planted and harvested throughout the summer, and L'rens, on a long sweep north nearly to the permanent snow cap, had found several meadows of wild hay, which had been harvested and stored in the lower caverns as winter feed for the herdbeasts.

"Once again, we're as ready as we can be for the winter," H'ric remarked, and C'lin nodded his agreement.

"He's a clever rider, that L'rens."

He stalked off, and H'ric watched him go. C'lin was aging, but H'ric needed him to lead the Wings.

Someone had come out of the lower caverns, and H'ric nodded a greeting to Uniak, the rider of gold Bedlith.

"How is your dragon?" H'ric asked.

"Tetchy," Uniak admitted. "I don't think she - expected - such a mating."

"She's a very young dragon," H'ric said. "Would you like to speak to the Weyrwoman about it?"

"I already did," Uniak said, with a shy glance, and colour in her face. "She helped me a lot. Where are you planning to send us, Weyrleader?"

They started walking towards the Hatching Grounds where Panath guarded her clutch.

"I had thought of Igen. I know it's a hard and desolate land, and it wouldn't be permanent like Telgar."

"It would give you three points of the triangle of cover, wouldn't it? But it's still going to be difficult."

"Yes."

There didn't seem anything else to say, and they entered the Hatching Grounds to find Alissia with her dragon. Panath was inclined to be snappy and short with anyone she found on the grounds, and H'ric had had to ask Jiverny to bespeak Havenenth about it, to allow the candidates some familiarity with the eggs before Impression. He was afraid that if they were thrust onto the ground unknowing, their very fear would make the hatching and Impression difficult.

Sharama leaned across to H'ric as they watched the dancers.

"The Masterharper sent a spy," he murmured. "Hence Yorus being very correct and playing only the set songs."

"I wondered why he was doing that. Drat the man! Well - I suppose I could always arrange for Yorus to go down to the coast, the spy could follow, and we could ship him on board a fishing boat for a month or two?"

Sharama laughed softly. "I wish it were that simple, Weyrleader. I don't understand it, but I told Yorus to wait until there were only weyrfolk, before he sings one of those catchy little numbers he devises."

"I told him he had to make the music for the games," Jiverny remarked as she listened shamelessly to their talk. "Lots of marches, and drums, and perhaps some horns as well. I want a victory flourish to be played at the presentation of the prizes."

"Speaking of which - how did you manage to get your father to present so many silver cups?"

Jiverny smiled at them. "Oh, I told him I would have his name engraved as donor, and everyone would remember him for ever."

Sharama nodded. "That's what all Lord Holders want, I'm afraid. To be remembered for ever."

"Then they should petition the Masterharper to allow his men to compose ballads in their honour," H'ric replied. "I presume they write down their family lines, their intermarriages, all the children they father?"

"I'm sure they do," Sharama said after an enquiring look at Jiverny. "I worry about it sometimes, that they're shrinking this world instead of expanding it."

"The problem is, this part of the world is all mountains and high passes, and difficult terrain," Jiverny pointed out. "The good land is parcelled out into ever smaller pieces in each generation, but there's nothing that can be done with the high mountain slopes, so my father always grumbled."

"He has that long mountain range, but it's not as high as these Benden mountains."

"And he farms further and further up the slopes," Jiverny confirmed. "By terracing around the slopes, he can prevent runoff. Lord Arun could do the same, I suggested to him he go and visit, and he said it would take weeks to get there."

"We could fly him," H'ric said quietly. "He could open correspondence with your father, I'd be pleased to provide a young rider as a messenger, and then we could take him there on a bronze, with whatever baggage he wanted."

Jiverny studied him thoughtfully.

"That's an excellent idea," Sharama said. "Get them to mix at times other than stiffly formal conferences and conventions!"

"So long as the other Lord Holders didn't think they were conspiring," Jiverny said with a shrug, pouring each of them another measure of wine. "We forget, dedicated as we are to the defence of the whole of Pern, that earth-bound factions must exist."

H'ric watched the dancers gyrate, seeing Lord Arun in consultation with two of the Master Miners from Crom. Another boy had been snatched from the drudgery and danger of the mines to an uncertain future as a dragon rider, and H'ric wondered if Lord Arun was negotiating a price for Crom coal. The traders would bring that at a tidy profit to themselves as always. That was not something H'ric was prepared to offer; he had no intention of cutting out the traders and their constant wanderings and newsgatherings around Pern just because he could fly dragon-loads of coal in an instant of time.

"Come and dance, lady mine," he said abruptly, and they moved into a set and danced with the other guests at another successful Impression that would hopefully begin to fill the empty Weyrs before the end of the Interval.


	21. Chapter 21

Another Turn, no close encounters - are we sure Thread will ever return? Thank you again for all your comments and reviews on the story, it certainly encourages me.

30.12.196 - 5.1.197

H'ric looked up from the records as someone entered the room. He had half expected Jiverny, although the Weyrwoman was recovering from a vicious winter cold. Half the Weyr was down with it, sneezing and coughing. The healers would not allow anyone to go _between_ in such a state, so the dragons were exercised by those riders fit enough to go aloft, their anxious mates connected in mind with them.

"The notes from Fort, Weyrleader," G'las said formally. The blue rider had been stationed at Fort Weyr to record the passage of the Red Star through the Star Stones, and was the last to report.

"What kept you?" H'ric asked tetchily as he took the parcel of parchments.

"I was looking for any more old records. That Weyr is a maze of apartments and corridors and unexpected warm spots. I used a roll of twine to find my way."

H'ric leaned back and rubbed his neck.

"Sorry - I shouldn't have snapped at you. Sit down - call for some _klah_, would you, my throat's raw."

"Are you sickening for this illness? There's fever at Fort Hold itself - the winter has taken a real grip on the place - there's illness in the animals as well."

"That's not good news if I want another lot of herdbeasts fattened. Is it serious?"

"I didn't go too close, but I questioned a farmer or two and they seemed fatalistically resigned to losing all their animals. But that's farmers for you."

"Did you find any more records?" H'ric asked as he compared the drawings of the Red Star from all the Weyrs. G'las had taken the pitcher of drink from a drudge and added something from a bottle also on the tray, and handed a mug to the Weyrleader.

"I didn't find anything very much, no. Some bits and pieces of pottery left over, I must suppose from the flight out of there. A couple of metal spoons. I left them in the lower caverns for their stock. I could hear tunnel snakes, although I didn't meet any."

H'ric leaned back, sighing, fanning out the parchments.

"It doesn't seem to be growing any larger," he said frettily. "And look at the angle from the last Turn to this one - if you draw a line, it's not going to be bracketed in the Eye Stone correctly at all!"

"I know. I can't understand it, unless it drops suddenly into position? But that would defy all the rules all the other stars are governed by, even the Dawn Sisters. Is it possible - have we counted the Turns wrong?"

H'ric took an incautious gulp of _klah_ and had a coughing fit, sneezing the hot liquid all over his clothing and the table top. G'las had hastily swept all the parchments away, and now leaned and collected them from the floor as H'ric choked himself back under control.

"Counted them wrong? What - why should you say that?"

"Only that it can't be that precise, surely?"

"Other stars move in precise patterns," H'ric objected. "So far the pattern is - the Red Star brightens, it approaches, we size it through the Eye Stone and Thread falls."

"Yes I know."

"Why did you mention the Dawn Sisters?"

G'las shrugged as he drank his _klah_. "I took sightings on them at Fort. They're visible at dawn. They're so bright, it's hard to miss them."

"They're visible from Benden as well."

"Mmm."

H'ric traced a pattern on the table top in the spilt _klah_.

"So if they don't follow the rules, are you saying the Red Star might not?"

"It's a possibility. If we look at it positively, it might give us more time to breed up the dragons we need."

"The queens aren't rising as often or clutching as hard as I had supposed they might," H'ric confessed. "Haveneth has risen only once each Turn in the last ten Turns since she became fully mature. All right, she's Hatched four junior queens, but Bedlith - is such a small dragon - I'd not expect a queen from her this time around."

"Yes. So - are we sure on our timings?"

H'ric stared at his mug as if he wanted to hurl it across the room.

"I don't know. All I can do is to train what we have, hope the queens clutch often, and make sure the Holders know their duty."

G'las sighed and shook his head, spreading out the Weyr documents showing the Red Star.

"Get some rest, Weyrleader. Get some youngsters in training to write your letters and reports."

H'ric nodded. "I'll try. I saw you in the classrooms, didn't I? Would you like to do it?"

"Oddly enough, yes I would," G'las said bluntly. "I Impressed at the same time as you, Weyrleader, we're the same age. I don't have a permanent weyrmate, and I get lonely, sometimes. I'd like to help Yorus with classes, and train up to help you."

"And M'nas is usually with Yorus?"

G'las flushed. "Yes he is. And he has a proddy green, and Deneth has flown her a couple of times."

H'ric nodded. "I've no objection, G'las. If we do have to wait longer, we all of us need to find some occupation to keep ourselves busy. There's only so much formation flying, and games, we can do to pass the time."

"I thought that when I was down in Fort. Thanks."

"Thank you," H'ric replied. "And I think we all feel a bit flat after Turnover, and need a new resolution or two to carry us through this winter. I can't remember so much rain and sleet and hail before. Give me a good depth of clean snow rather than these icy mucky conditions!"

It seemed H'ric would have his wish, because snow started falling the next day, covering the ice and making conditions underfoot treacherous, but at least the cold and coughs started to abate. The weyrlings had been sequestered in their own quarters and seemed to have suffered the least, and H'ric knew they had been hard at work with all the dragons, cleaning and oiling them, getting themselves familiar with harness work, because very soon they would be flying for the first time.

H'ric and Jiverny stood on the Hatching grounds watching as Haveneth settled herself and displayed her second clutch of Galanath's mating.

"Thirty and a gold," H'ric said. "The Holders won't love us, lady mine, for this!"

"You've plenty of candidates in the Weyr?"

"Oh yes, but I'll still send out in Search. How sure are you that young Kalina from Fort will Impress the gold?"

Jiverny nodded. "If self-possession is anything to go by, she will do so. She's a very mature young lady, and helps me, and Lavand, with the ordering of the Weyr already. She's going to be an asset in the future - whatever that holds - "

She glanced at H'ric who shook his head in frustration. "It still doesn't add up. There should be a real urgency about the dragons, in the queens, and the Red Star should be looming larger."

"Has G'las made any headway in his theory we might be out by Turns?"

They made their way outside, and H'ric looked at the silently falling snow.

"He's trying to count back, trying to get people to remember how old they are, how old their parents were, that sort of thing."

"What about the records at Benden Hold?"

"I've sent a messenger to ask Lord Arun for his record keeper's assistance, but I suspect like us, they restart the Turns. That's how it's always been, he'll tell me, I'm sure."

"But even if we managed to pin down the length between Passes, there's no guarantee it would be exact, right back to the First Pass?"

H'ric shook his head as they entered the lower caverns. Mima bustled forward with a drink for them, and a nurse brought Jerenic to them. At eight months old he was already reaching for objects, already pulling himself up, and he stood on H'ric's knees and pulled at his clothes, babbling at him.

"Strong bones," Mima said approvingly. "He'll be a heart-breaker as well, if those curls stay in."

H'ric guided Jerenic's fingers to his buttons, and watched the child play with them, and Jiverny smiled fondly at them both; she spared as much time as she could to be with the child, and she could sense H'ric relaxing as he focussed on the child and not on the everlasting worries he had about the Weyr and their place in it. Jiverny could feel Haveneth's approval, and hoped this quiet time would help H'ric. Jerenic grabbed at his father's hair and H'ric gave a yelp, and Jiverny realised with a shock that there were grey hairs threaded in the black. She glanced at Mima, who nodded imperceptibly, and Jiverny knew she was not the only one to have noticed.

"Go to mama," H'ric said, and Jiverny took the child who made a grab for her long hair. "Ouch, that hurt!"

He glanced at the hair he had extracted from his son's grip, and sighed and shook his head.

"My father's hair was never grey that I recall, he died when I was so young," he said in a low voice. "My grandfather's hair was grey, the short time I remember him. But we all kept our curls."

"And so you will life long, lovey," Mima said briskly as she stood up. "Five weeks to Impression, I'd best be making an inventory of the food. We could do with some salted fish."

This last was a throw away remark over her shoulder, and H'ric glanced at Jiverny.

"Will you come to the coast? Master Fisherman Varel's fleet should be in the harbour, there might be some fish to buy."

"That would be nice. Yes, we'll go soon."


	22. Chapter 22

This will be the last update for a while - I am going on holiday - and the time stretches will be greater from now until the end of the story. Thanks for all your comments and reviews as always.

1.9.197

C'lin circled with his bronze, both of them tipping to look at the new riders aloft for the first time. The other bronze Wingleaders were also in the air, in a tiered and staggered formation in case of accidents.

Haveneth's first clutching from Galanath's mating was ready to begin flying and training. There were enough young dragons to furnish an entire Wing, but they would be slotted into the existing Wings at first, tried out in formations, and then the Weyr would shuffle its dragons and riders and begin a new chapter.

C'lin rubbed his dragon's hide, and Vereneth sent a thought that the new dragons performed well, and were of a good size. C'lin agreed with that; there was no doubt the pairing of Galanath with Haveneth was producing good results. C'lin had fretted about the inbreeding that would inevitably result from only one Weyr being active, but the dragons seemed to be holding their size, and perhaps increasing a little. Certainly they were more agile in the air. As he thought it, he had Vereneth send a message to a young blue to go down, seeing the strain of wing muscles. The blue obediently circled and started descending, and C'lin watched it go down to land, attendants running at once to check on it. Peering over his dragon's shoulder, C'lin saw all was well, and turned his attention back to the young dragons circling in the thermals above Benden Weyr before signalling all of them down to the ground; no point overtaxing young muscles in boy or beast at this stage.

N'rin and K'mar, the Weyrlingmasters, came to meet C'lin as he dismounted. He staggered a little and held onto his harness, shaking his head to dispel dizziness, and N'rin caught his arm.

"All right, Wingleader?"

"Just a touch of dizziness. Not as young as we were, and seeing those new ones up aloft - does my heart good to see the Weyr still prospering."

"I'd like your judgement on them - you sent V'dra and Hemeth down early?"

"Thought I saw strain in the shoulders. V'dra's a big lad, could be he needs Hemeth to exercise alone for a while."

K'mar nodded, making a note of it.

"Apart from that, they should be fit to join the Wings once they've been taught how to fix their points for going _between_," C'lin continued. "Yes, all in all, a very satisfactory lot of boys. And Panath's youngsters coming up behind, and two more clutches as well, eh? We'll be well prepared at the end of the Interval."

He walked with the two others into the lower caverns to report to the Weyrleader who was making another of his everlasting lists. C'lin saw no need for lists, he carried everything in his head, but even he had grudgingly begun to note down a few things for the complex arrangements of flight formation.

"All right, C'lin? A good flight, I thought, for a first time?"

"Very fair."

C'lin sat down and allowed a drudge to serve him, speaking out loud, seeing G'las taking notes in the complicated shorthand system he had devised.

"So you have three Weyrs covered," C'lin said at last. "With dragons bespeaking each other, you'll be hoping to cover most of the Falls?"

"To begin with, yes. We've studied and noted, and it seems we might have a few Turns to get experienced and up to strength as much as we can before then."

C'lin nodded.

"And the tithe due, and a Gather at Benden Hold to attend?"

"Yes. It's not been such a good Turn, I'm told, but there should be grain and meat enough. L'rens took a crew up north and managed to get another cut of silage, and Lord Arun was grateful for that for his winter beasts."

C'lin nodded, not really listening; what went on with the land based peoples of this world was not his concern.

G'las went over a few points with him, and then C'lin went out to check on Vereneth and climb slowly to his Weyr, checking over the points he had made, and the new variations that had occurred to him. It would not be his fault if they were not prepared in what the Weyrwoman continued to call his aerial ballet, strange words she said she had found on an old hide that had been found with the oldest records, now being diligently copied.

C'lin relaxed on his bed, linking his hands behind his head, his thoughts idling down into relaxation and sleep.

All the occupants of the Weyr came racing out into the grounds as they heard the keening wail of the dragons. Each and every one of the dragons was up on its haunches on the ledges, wings extended, heads to the sky as they mourned.

"Who - what - Jiverny - who - "

"It's C'lin," she said in a choking voice, staring up at the empty ledge. "Verenth just went_ between_ for all time - no - he was all right - he was well - he was looking forward to more training - "

The sound of the dragons seemed to go on and on, echoing and reverberating around the bowl of the Weyr as H'ric took the stairs to C'lin's Weyr two at a time, racing recklessly, cannoning off the side walls occasionally, a part of his mind telling him he would be bruised later.

He entered C'lin's rooms and the elderly rider lay peaceful in death, a half smile on his face as if he too was journeying _between_ for all time with his dragon who was now gone, a chill wind blowing a scurry of sand in from the ledge.

H'ric stared at the bronze rider. C'lin had always been there, since he had come to the Weyr, a fixture, and now he was gone. He turned his head as someone came in, and Sisla entered, giving a sharp moaning hiss of grief as she crossed to the bed and touched C'lin's cooling cheek.

"He said he felt a bit dizzy, this last day or so. Said he mustn't rush like the youngsters."

She sank down by the bed, crying a little, and Jiverny came in and stood looking on.

"We'll do all that's necessary, Weyrleader," she said formally. "Go down, now."

"A moment." He too crossed to the bed, and bent and touched C'lin's hand, gripping it hard.

"Farewell, faithful servant," he whispered, and then he turned to go out and deal with the grief of dragons and riders alike.


	23. Chapter 23

So we enter the final phase before the advent of Thread - prepared or not...

30.12.197 - 5.1.198

"_As I and my dragon rode the cold winds above you,_

_As I rode above you, and watching the skies,_

_I saw a wild dance there, a wild dance of dragons,_

_All riding the skies there to meet with their doom._

_Oh lay me out nicely, oh wrap me in wherhide, oh take me up high and put me between,_

_Oh let me ride out there, eternally riding, my dragon and I in the cold skies of death._

_The thread it falls on us, it falls and we sear it,_

_We burn it to ashes, from ashes to dust,_

_The dust it is falling, and we fall with it downwards,_

_Our wings they are failing, are failing and gone._

_Oh lay me out nicely, oh wrap me in wherhide, oh take me up high and put me between,_

_Oh let me ride out there, eternally riding, my dragon and I in the cold skies of death._

_Give me just one more day here, just one more to live here,_

_To meet with my fellows, to dance and to sing,_

_Before my fate meets me, before I die bravely,_

_Scored deep by my foe, and falling in death._

_Oh lay me out nicely, oh wrap me in wherhide, oh take me up high and put me between,_

_Oh let me ride out there, eternally riding, my dragon and I in the cold skies of death._

_But Pern will be saved now, the skies cleared by dragons,_

_Thread shall be seared now, not one shall get through,_

_Pern will survive this Pass, and go on with living,_

_Though I and my dragon mere memories will be._

_Oh lay me out nicely, oh wrap me in wherhide, oh take me up high and put me between,_

_Oh let me ride out there, eternally riding, my dragon and I in the cold skies of death."_

Jiverny ceased singing, her voice so low H'ric had barely heard it. It was another of Yorus' songs, but he rarely sang it, and more especially it was not suited for this Turnover festival. Somehow, though, it seemed fitting in this setting, the dining hall quiet for once, the dancers paused and resting, finding food and wine and returning to their seats.

"Give us a new song, Yorus!" someone called and he tuned his lap harp and began a short choppy tune to which he fitted funny and scurrilous words about most of the riders in the hall, causing laughter and shouts of appreciation.

"Is that how you feel, lady mine?" H'ric asked quietly as he poured more wine for them, the rich red of Benden that had come with the tithe. With that tithe had come the grievous news that Lord Arun was dead, fallen from his riding beast dragged to his death across his own lands. Both H'ric and Jiverny had gone to the funeral, and met with Lord Arun's eldest son Runanan. Both sides had been cautious, feeling their way to an understanding, but the new Lord Holder had told them he would do what he could to keep the tithe up to strength.

"I was thinking of Lord Arun. That son of his was fostered in Fort."

"I thought so. There was the unmistakeable taint of that place about him. Well - perhaps with constant contact with us, he will be a good provider."

Jiverny sighed and shook her head, looking around the hall. Like H'ric, she was all too well aware that with a possible two Turns to the end of the Pass, they had woefully few dragons. Haveneth had risen again, and all four of the junior queens had produced small clutches, but there were no golden eggs amongst them, or so Jiverny judged.

H'ric put a hand over hers, and they left the hall, walking out into the darkened bowl. Snow was falling, a slow steady dance of flakes, and H'ric caught one on his hand and watched it melt away, before the two leaders walked silently to their shared bed, because tomorrow and the next day after that and the one after that they must show a brave face again.

"Ho there! Weyrleader!"

H'ric turned, a mite slowly because of the wine in his blood, and saw G'las coming towards him with another man, well wrapped against the cold and carrying two large packs. G'las was smiling as he came up to the Weyrleader.

"Masterhealer Perera begged a lift off me, Weyrleader."

H'ric stared in astonishment at the Masterhealer, and then hurried him into the warmth of the hall.

"Was I expecting you?" H'ric demanded as he helped the other man take off helmet, jacket and gloves.

"No. I knew your man would be making observations, though, and asked for a lift from him to come and visit."

H'ric frowned at him and at the two packs.

"Observations. Yes, that come to nothing!"

"So he informed me. I understand you have compiled charts to show the Red Star's progress? I would be interested to see those."

"I send watchers to put in the exact place at each Weyr. Those empty Weyrs - they still trouble me."

"They trouble most of us who give serious thought to the progression of Interval and Fall," the Masterhealer responded in a grim voice. H'ric looked enquiringly at him, and the Masterhealer shrugged.

"I have a few things I want to give my journeymen, and some things I want to look into. This far north, the problems must be far different from those I usually encounter, when the Lord Holders will allow me any say in the matter."

"Are they stopping you again?"

Masterhealer Perera shrugged again as he accepted a warming mug of _klah_.

"They're grateful enough for the cures I can send them, but they want nothing more. Mind you, the Masterharper is feeling the same turning away and loss of interest. He came to see me to grumble about it, but he made his own bed and must lie in it."

"I insist on the teaching ballads as well as our own songs and ballads. And I'm pleased to see you."

The Masterhealer nodded. "I can see that. You have troubles enough, Weyrleader, and I can relieve you of the ones related to illness, I trust."

"I'll send for your journeymen, and see Lavand about a room for you, somewhere warm."

"That - going _between_ - that was something I had never experienced. _Sensory deprivation_, is a term I found in some of the oldest records. I never realised its meaning until that short flash of nothingness."

"I'll arrange for some of the oldest records to be brought out," H'ric promised. "We've a small selection of healing recipes and notes of illnesses, and they might be different up here."

"There was a great plague of dragons in the Third Pass, and something that struck people in the Sixth Pass, as detailed in _The Ballad of Moreta's Ride_," Perera said with a nod. "I've studied that, but I'd be grateful for any records you have." He studied H'ric. "And of course, I am always at your service, Weyrleader, for you to talk through anything that troubles you. You, yourself, personally, I mean."

H'ric sighed out and took a sip of his _klah_.

"That would be long in the telling, Masterhealer."

"And all the more reason why I should visit," he replied, and H'ric nodded in tacit agreement that they would speak about the things that burdened him.


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks for the reviews - it is a problem to stretch a plausible story across several Turns, but I wanted it that way to build sympathetic characters. We know what will happen thanks to the marvellous books of AM, but poor old H'ric doesn't yet!

4.7.198

_HELP MEHELPMEHELPMEHELPME OH PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME OW-OW-OW-OW HELPMEHELPMEHELPME_

H'ric jerked awake with a shout and a scream and came out of bed at a leap, crashing into the stone wall of his weyr in the darkness of a warm summer night.

- _Galanath_

_- come quickly _

H'ric did not even bother to gather up his sleeping fur, but ran out onto the ledge of his weyr. Galanath was up on his hind legs, flapping his enormous bronze wings against the starlit sky, bugling his distress as he broadcast the call for help.

_HELPMEHELPMEHELPME IT'S ALL AROUND US IT'S BURNING IT'S COMING WE CAN'T GET AWAY HELPMEHELPMEHELPME_

- _all right all right all right calm down ask him what's burning_

_- he says it is all burning, all the forest is alight_

_- where is he?_

"And who is he?" Jiverny added aloud as she came out onto the ledge and slung a cloth around H'ric's waist. "Who is it, Galanath?"

- _the boy who can talk to me_

_- Dawan? Can he hear you, can he hear anything you say?_

_- he is too frightened_

"Can you get a position?"

Haveneth was peering across at them, her eyes whirling an angry glowing red, and H'ric could see other riders coming out onto their ledges to try and calm their dragons, glow baskets and flares lighting the bowl as people came out of the lower caverns; everyone in Benden had some empathy, and everyone had been wakened by that elemental scream for help.

- _Galanath, try and find a position from him_

_- he is too frightened of the fire but they were camped in the forests between Telgar and Lemos_

_HELPMEHELPMEHELPME FATHERMOTHER HELPMEHELPMEHELPME_

Jiverny ran to Galanath and grabbed at his head and he stilled long enough for Jiverny to stare deep into his eyes. H'ric had an instant flashing recognition of a distinctive two pronged mountain with a scree slope of sparkling stone chips before it was all churned back into flames and terror and pain.

"All right, I've got it!" H'ric shouted. "My wing and M'ris - to Telgar!"

The dragon riders vanished to get dressed and H'ric hurried to do the same, and Jiverny buckled his jacket tight, and wound a scarf around his throat.

"Bespeak Haveneth as soon as you get there," she said. "I'll get the younger riders ready with salves and bandages. If there's wild fires, there'll be people on the ground."

"Send firestone," H'ric directed. "We might be able to make a firebreak - what time is it at Telgar?"

"Four hours back - about sunset - you aren't going to time it as well?"

"Too dangerous," H'ric agreed. "No, we'll go for the time as it is now."

He had been busy putting the flying harness on Galanath and now climbed to his neck and took hold of the straps. Galanath took two steps forward and launched, and was _between_ almost before he had cleared the rock face.

H'ric emerged into a maelstrom of heat and thermal updrafts. Galanath bucked and twisted as he adjusted, sliding downwards for heartstopping seconds before he controlled the drift and beat strongly upwards. H'ric could see the two pronged mountain outlined against the sunset, but below him he could also see the awful sight of burning forests and grasslands, fireballs leaping across from tree to tree and long snaking lines of fire on open land.

A dry spring and early summer in the farming heartlands this Turn had wrought havoc with the land, drying and stunting the crops, drying up streams and small rivers and sucking water from wells in hold and farmland alike.

- _we go down_

H'ric clutched at the riding harness as Galanath turned and sped away from the scree slope, almost into the heart of the fire to H'ric's dazed senses, then the dragon banked sharply and landed, impossibly, on a tiny ledge. He leaned backwards, clutching the ledge with his talons, backwinging, and H'ric could see faces upturned towards him.

With a rush of hot air, B'rnel was hovering on Tweneth above and behind him, and throwing him a rope ladder. H'ric fastened it to his harness, and threw the end. Someone clutched it, and B'rnel had thrown another long knotted rope down from where Tweneth hovered above the ridge.

Within minutes, Chandra and his family were on board the two dragons. Galanath let go of the ledge and flung himself backwards, went _between_ and continued the backward movement as they emerged over Telgar Hold. Dawan was clutched so tight around H'ric's neck the rider could hardly breathe, and then Galanath was landing on the stone apron.

"Let go, Dawan, you must let me go."

He prised the boy's fingers apart, and someone was running to collect him. H'ric stared down into Dawan's golden eyes, black with stark fright, obviously still broadcasting his screams of terror. His mother came running and Dawan calmed a little, allowing H'ric to detach him and hand him down to the frantic woman.

"I must go and fight the fire. I'll be back later. See to your family."

Dawan allowed himself to be helped down, and H'ric coiled the rope ladder and secured it as Galanath rose upwards.

B'rnel was once again at H'ric's side as the two dragons went to rejoin the fire fighting. H'ric caught glimpses of M'ris and his wing, and then a rider had thrown him a bag of firestone, and Galanath was demanding it.

"Lay a firebreak out across that hillside!" H'ric shouted to B'rnel. "There's some sort of water down there - see if the younger dragons can scoop some up and spit it at the fire!"

B'rnel raised a fist in acknowledgement and H'ric and Galanath began laying waste to the land in front of the fire. There was a hold there, H'ric thought with sickness in his stomach. He could not tell if it was abandoned, but the wind was driving the fire towards it.

- _the animals die_

H'ric peered down, and there were charred carcases strew about, and live herdbeasts running mindlessly in front of the fire. H'ric's mouth set in a grim line, because he was going to have to risk killing those beasts to stop the fire.

Galanath spewed fire across the ground, joined by several of his wing, small fires that leaped ahead of the main fire, and died quickly as B'rnel and his group spat and spilled water to kill the firebreak.

H'ric caught glimpses of men working on the ground, beating with brush brooms at the small fires that tried to leap across from the main line. Others emptied bags of damp soil to force the fire away from the hold. It was not the only one, H'ric realised, but there was a beaten track from hold to hold and with no more tall trees, that might stop the advance.

Galanath rose upwards and a thermal caught them again, the dragon screaming as his wing muscles pulled with the unexpected movement. H'ric felt that agony through his entire body, and then Galanath was gliding back towards the fight.

- _Dobreth is injured they go to land_

H'ric counted anxiously, and could see the wings were light by two or three dragons, possibly injured or gone for more supplies

- _Haveneth comes with more firestone_

H'ric peered, incredulous, and the four queens were guiding and directing the younger riders to bring the firestone to make windbreaks. Up here, buffeted by the thermals, H'ric could see the fire leaping from tree to tree, bursting into fireballs and throwing tongues of flame upwards.

- _she goes to the hold_

H'ric was sure he did not image the relief in Galanath's tone at that information, and then he caught another bag of firestone and rejoined the fight above the forests and farmlands that would have to be replanted and reclaimed.

It was full dark by the time H'ric and Galanath landed at Telgar Weyr, coming in last after he had seen the other dragons back to shelter.

Lights blazed from the building, and flares had been lit around the stone apron to guide the weary dragons down to rest and shelter. Young riders came running to help the riders from their dragons, and strip off the harnesses. H'ric buckled at the knees and B'rnel was there holding him up.

"Bear up, you've only a short pace or two."

"I'm all right - the dragons - "

"K'mar and N'rin are here, and the healers. Come on - up here - just a pace or two."

H'ric allowed himself to be helped into the main hall. He could see pallets spread out along the walls, people moving about, and then B'rnel was lowering him to a fresh pallet.

"The dragons - "

"Will be fine. You need to rest - were you touched by the flames?"

"No, I don't think so. My chest feels tight - I could hardly breathe in some of the places - Galanth flashed us _between_ a couple of times - is he all right - his wing muscles - strained - "

"I'll see to him myself. Oh - here's Sharama - I'll leave you in his care."

H'ric let his head fall back onto the pallet. He felt nauseous and exhausted, all his muscles aching.

"Let me help you out of that gear," Sharama said quietly, and someone brought warm water and a cloth for Sharama to wash hands and face, water to drink, and most of all peace and stillness in the darkened hall.

"Sleep is the best remedy, Weyrleader," Sharama said softly. "In the morning, we'll assess what more needs to be done."

"Is anyone - badly hurt?"

"Yes, I won't deny I have one or two I will be watching over tonight."

"Dragons - gone - "

"Not so far, or your dragon would have keened it to the world, I am sure. You must try and sleep."

H'ric let his eyes close again, trying to dispel the vivid images of fire and destruction, finding it hard to calm himself, replaying endlessly that dramatic rescue and desperate flight to safety.

He was aware when someone came close, cradled him, and began to sing.

"_Oh hush now, sleep now, go to dreamland.  
There's the moon for you to play with,  
And the stars to run away with,  
They'll come when you're asleep.  
Oh hush now, sleep now, go to dreamland  
In my arms I'll rock you through the nighttime  
Oh hush now, sleep now, dream till day."_


	25. Chapter 25

Whew! Here in the UK we don't experience the really dreadful wildfires that ravage other countries, although they do occur, of course. But now he's offered help for one natural disaster, will H'ric be called upon whenever something occurs?

5.7.198 - 6.7.198

It seemed only a heartbeat later that H'ric woke, but the light showed him it was afternoon. He leaned up on one elbow, cautiously, but he no longer had a headache, although his body ached and pained.

- _you are awake_

_- yes I am awake. How do you feel? I felt your muscles stretch_

_- they will mend and I will mend_

H'ric climbed out of his makeshift bed and noticed another had been drawn close during the night. Someone had slept by his side, and from the faint perfume in the bedding, he did not think it had been B'rnel.

Sharama came across the hall and studied him.

"You feel well enough to move around? There's food in the smaller hall, and water to drink, or perhaps some _klah_?"

"_Klah_ would be welcome. Are these riders?" He gestured to the pallets in the hall, and Sharama shook his head.

"Most of them are ordinary folk who were fighting on the ground."

"We saw Dobreth - rider V'nel - come down early?"

"Yes. The rider is fine, but Dobreth, his brown, has a badly mangled wing. For now, the beastmaster from the Hold is assisting with the injured dragons."

H'ric spent a moment walking around the hall with Sharama, commending those who had fought on the ground, receiving their murmured thanks for the efforts of the dragons. He came into the smaller hall to see Jiverny with the Lady Holder. Jiverny came across at once and he embraced her, and allowed her to pour _klah_ and put food in front of him.

"It doesn't seem possible it was such a short time," H'ric said to her. "It seemed to stretch for hours, up there."

"Yes, and I think that is how it will seem in the Pass," she replied. "You concentrated so fiercely on the fight, and then were surprised the real world moved so slowly. I watched you and the others - you were reaping the benefits of C'lin's teaching, up there."

H'ric nodded. "I could feel myself ordering it as he would have done. But the updrafts and thermals were fierce, much more fierce than anything we will encounter fighting Thread, I'm sure, although contrary winds would have the same effect, I suppose."

"You could exercise in the hot weather, to catch and tame the thermals, as the wherries do?"

"A good thought, one I'll bear in mind."

He greeted the Lord Holder, who looked as tired and drawn as H'ric felt himself to be.

"Thank you for coming, Weyrleaders, but - I didn't send a signal - "

"There was a boy we met a Turn or so ago, Galanath could speak to him, and in his fright the boy broadcast his terror and Galanath picked up on it." H'ric looked around the hall. "Is Dawan here, lady?"

"Chandra and his family are outside helping with the beasts," Jiverny replied.

"Did they lose everything?"

"Yes, I think so, apart from the packs they could carry into those caves. The packs can be retrieved, but wagons and draybeasts are gone, either burned or scattered."

"I will see to their recompense," Lord Cantin said at once. "If he had not called - the fire was well on its way down into the open fields, and from there it would have seared all the plains between here and Lemos!"

"Did Lemos burn?"

"Some of it," Lord Cantin said. "They share some of our forests, but a lot of their land is hardwood, orchards, and open fields. They have a large lake and river to use against fire, and well drilled teams."

The three of them walked back into the main hall and then H'ric went out into the open air. He had worn helmet, gloves, and goggles in the fight, items which had protected his skin and eyes, but he still breathed shallowly after inhaling the heated burning air above the fires.

Chandra was helping oil the dragons after they had evidently found a lake big enough to use for bathing. The big rangy trader came across at once to greet them.

"Thank you, Weyrleader."

"Thank your son, rather. We managed to get a sighting of the two mountain peaks and could find your cave more easily. Did you know of it beforehand?"

Chandra nodded. "I know of quite a few caverns and caves to shelter in, and that one has been used for many generations of trappers and hunters, I would think, and more especially during a Pass."

H'ric walked slowly around the injured dragons. Dobreth was the worst, he thought, but several others would not be flying for quite some months. Lord Cantin would not be able to feed or house them all; they would have to devise a way to get them to Telgar Weyr to recover.

A small figure darted out of the stables and Dawan was there in front of him. H'ric went down on one knee and gathered the boy into his arms.

"All right now, Dawan?"

"I was so frightened, and then I heard Galanath and I called and called."

"You certainly did that," H'ric said with a smile. "You roused the entire Weyr and we came at once."

Dawan stood away, swallowing, obviously still on the edge of nervous tears, and then he squared his shoulders and bowed.

"Thank you for saving my family, Weyrleader."

H'ric bowed in response.

"The pleasure is all mine, trader boy, although I think - perhaps - your father will be willing to allow you to join us very soon?"

Dawan looked up at Chandra who nodded.

"We were in fact on our way to Benden, Weyrleader, to bring the boy. Alas that the choice trading items I had in my wagons were destroyed, I would have enjoyed bargaining you down on them!"

H'ric laughed, a hand on Dawan's shoulder, and they walked on together to look to the other dragons, and speak to the riders, H'ric gathering their impressions of the fire and the fighting, noting which riders made concise reports, and who still showed lingering fear and dismay at the fighting.

B'rnel came across from where he had been tending to Galanath.

"Weyrleader."

"Is Galanath all right?"

B'rnel nodded.

"Through Tweneth, I felt the muscles strain in his shoulders and wings. He can do some stretching exercises like the others, but he must rest."

H'ric looked around the crowded area, and B'rnel pointed into the mountains to the north.

"M'dor is supervising the preparation of Telgar Weyr," he said. "I think we can devise some sort of lifting for the injured dragons up to that place. The Weyrlingmasters said it might be best not to risk going _between_ for a while?"

"Probably wise," H'ric admitted. "Yes, Telgar Weyr would be ideal."

B'rnel looked worried, shaking his head.

"Will Galanath be fit to rise if Haveneth does? You know in past Turns she always rises about the eighth month?"

"I'll deal with that one when I reach it," H'ric replied, walking across to his dragon. Galanath lifted one lid from one eye and rumbled deep in his throat, and H'ric examined his wings and shoulder muscles.

"Cold packs?" he asked B'rnel.

"I had the young riders go into the eternal snows and bring back bags of the stuff," B'rnel said with a smile. "Sufficient to pack around muscles for a while. Lord Cantin has a deep cool cellar system, and we've filled barrels with snow for him, to provide water for the Hold. I see no break in the weather at all at the moment!"

"It's unusual."

"Probably due to that thing - " B'rnel pointed at the Red Star which was glowing faintly in the eastern sky, just visible.

"Probably. The records show the weather changes for the worse when it approaches."

H'ric and B'rnel walked around the resting dragons, speaking to their riders and the beast handlers from the Hold who were helping out.

"Just bigger than herdbeasts, see," one handler pointed out as he helped smooth a light cover of numbweed over an injury. "Burns like these - annoying - but they'll heal in proper time."

"No going _between_," B'rnel agreed ruefully.

The handler paused and studied the dragons.

"They do say, in the old tales, that a dragon can carry anything it thinks it can carry," he said thoughtfully. "A canvas sling, say, and two dragons?"

"To the Weyr? Yes, we'll experiment with that - I hope the Holder has plenty of canvas and sacking!"

The handler laughed, and the two riders walked on.

"He seems easy with dragons," B'rnel said, glancing back. "I wonder if we could coax him to the Weyr?"

"I'm never averse to having more help," H'ric agreed. "I'll broach it to Lord Cantin."

B'rnel walked on for a moment, and then glanced at his friend.

"Would you have responded like this if the fire had been anywhere else, or Dawan had not been involved?" he asked bluntly.

H'ric stared at him, frowning, thinking about that.

"My instinct says that of course I would have brought the dragons to help any threatened Hold," he said at last. "You mean because of that disastrous conclave at the beginning of the Turn?"

"That's exactly what I mean," B'rnel replied grimly. "I won't forget that in a hurry."

"Nor will I," H'ric said on a sigh and a shake of the head. "That was a disaster in more ways than one, but at least it showed me clearly the way the Lord Holders and Craft Masters are thinking."

"They still maintain the others Weyrs suicided? Of course I can see their twisted logic, but all the same - it doesn't seem possible - all those dragons - surely some memory of it would have remained at Benden?"

"That's the one thing that makes me sure it never happened," H'ric replied. "There's no mention of it. The records at the end of the last Pass record all the dragons and their riders at Benden at that point. Then there's just a note - more of a marginal addition in a different hand - to say they found the other Weyrs abandoned, but no explanation, and no mention of the Benden dragons mourning the passing of their kind."

"Five Weyrs - a thousand dragons or more - surely a multiple suicide would have driven the Benden dragons mad?"

H'ric nodded. "I would have thought so myself. No, wherever they are, for whatever cause they went, it was more urgent than remaining during this Interval. Let us just hope they reappear in time."

The two riders walked on, thinking of that conclave, called by the Lord Holder of Fort to reinforce his own position. Ably and subtly backed by the Masterharper, he had effectively halted all help to Benden Weyr. No extra tithes would be granted unless Thread actually appeared; no drudges or handlers would be sent to the empty Weyrs even to prepare them as staging posts for any fall of Thread in the future. H'ric considered he had behaved with great restraint, when he had longed to draw his knife on the man and challenge him. His only consolation had been that Benden, reluctantly backed by Lemos and Bitra, had denounced Fort's Lord Holder in no uncertain terms. Given that Lord Runanan had been raised as a fosterling at Fort, H'ric had been heartened by that. Lord Holder Cantin of Telgar had also declared he would support Benden Weyr in whatever way possible. The Craft Masters had seemed to H'ric to be sitting the fence; none of them spoke one way or the other, but he was reluctant to test them by any demands.

"Well, brooding on it won't get the work done," H'ric said at last, staring out into the afternoon light. He could still smell the aftermath of the fires, a certain smoky haze in the air, the subtle smell of charred wood. "What about the burned out forests? Can the Lord Holder make use of it, d'you think?"

"Charcoal for Turns to come, free for the picking," B'rnel replied. "Speaking of picking - here comes M'dor. Let's hope he has good news."

Cirith circled and landed, and M'dor climbed down and came across, stripping off helmet and gloves.

"Greetings, Weyrleader - you took no hurt?"

"No, none."

"And Galanath? Tirith says he strained some muscles?"

"A little, I think, but it will mend in good time."

H'ric had not imagined the emotion on M'dor's face, nor did he need Galanath's cross comment to know the bronze rider was automatically thinking of the next mating flight, and the possibility of taking on Benden Weyr. It was what all the bronze riders would think about, he knew it, and knew they would not expect any change in his behaviour to them.

"Telgar Weyr is ready for any wounded you need to send, Weyrleader," M'dor said formally. "Alissia has plenty of help there, and I've sent riders to Ista to fetch sand for the weyrs. Also, we've ventured up to the wild hay meadows and begun to harvest them, and culled wherries for food and hides. I know that trader had wild wher hides, but I could never be comfortable wearing a garment made of that."

H'ric shrugged. "I doubt if it will persist - perhaps just an opportunistic kill - but if dragon riders don't want to wear it, I doubt if anyone else could afford it or want to wear it. But wherries - yes, we can always use those leathery hides."

At dinner that evening in the Hall, H'ric sat with the Lord Holder and listened to his harper singing the duty songs as a nod to the riders present, and then launch into some of the new material coming out of Harper Hall. H'ric had to admit the man was probably a far better Harper than Yorus, but the trend and subtle message of the songs had him frowning.

Lord Cantin saw it and leaned across.

"Since that conclave, I've listened with new ears, Weyrleader, but I wanted you to hear it as well. It's not my imagination, is it, that those songs are not celebrating the saviours of Pern as they ought?"

H'ric shrugged as he took a sip of the wine in his goblet.

"They certainly will not reinforce the message," he said in answer. "If that's a sample of what's coming out of Harper Hall, I'll be holding onto Yorus for the term of his natural life, I can assure you of that."

"Did the Masterharper ask for him back again?"

"Yes. I said he showed a certain aptitude for dragon handling, and politely declined. The Masterharper then asked if I needed any additional harpers. I turned him down."

Lord Cantin shook his head. "I don't know how he managed to get elected. I've heard rumours it was all a little underhand."

H'ric nodded. "I've heard that as well, and the Masterhealer intimated as much."

"At least you had his support at conclave! Did you expect it?"

"Yes. He's concerned about me, not just as Weyrleader, but me, myself, as a person."

"I'm glad of that. Now - less of the singing, Harper Ollison, let's have some dance music! Move the tables, everyone, we deserve an excuse to tread on each other's toes!"

Laughing, he led the way onto the cleared floor with Jiverny and H'ric watched them dance from his own place, wondering, as all the bronze riders were wondering, if Galanath would be up to the task of mating Haveneth this Turn.


	26. Chapter 26

So is Galanath fit or not? It's a thing all Weyrleaders must face, I suppose, that they could be supplanted on any mating flight of the senior gold.

7.7.198 - 1.8.198

H'ric looked up from swinging a scythe in the hay meadow. The fragrance of the cut grass surrounded him, and the slow rhythmic exercise had emptied his mind of all the minor frustrations of the day. Around him, a half dozen other riders were similarly employed, in these unexpected valleys they had so briefly made their own. A brown dragon was on watch on the heights, but the other dragons of the resting and mending group were either in their weyrs or exercising under the tutelage of N'rin and his new assistant Brond, the beast handler from Telgar who had been willing to join Benden as a dragon healer and handler. The lake at Telgar Weyr had been just deep enough for the dragons to exercise and strengthen themselves, and when the waters were calm and unroiled, the dragon riders also swam and exercised.

H'ric watched the brown dragon. It had seen something, its head turning slowly to survey the valley beyond this one; that one was empty, they had already gathered in its hay harvest and the drying stooks were stored at Telgar and Benden for the herdbeasts as fodder for the winter.

"Something over there?" D'rian asked. He was the nearest rider to H'ric, and now paused to wipe his face and arms. "Yes, look, he's on his way."

The brown, with his rider on his back, was swooping out of sight into the valley.

"Huh! You'll soon be able to do that as well, Weyrleader," D'rian said with a grin, and H'ric nodded in agreement. Galanath was mending well, and the big bronze declared himself fit and ready, but H'ric and the other riders had noticed a slight hesitation in his flights, an unwillingness to throw himself from his weyr ledge, something that he had always been noted for doing. _Not as young as we were_, H'ric thought to himself.

_- I am perfectly fit but those antics are to impress, a showiness, not serious healing_

_- oh, and I suppose there's no one to impress out here in the wilderness?_

Galanath had already expressed his opinion more than once, forcefully, on his tenure in the mountains. He complained about his weyr, he complained about the food, and he complained about the exercise regime. H'ric often wondered how much of it was put on, since Galanath's eyes seldom went to red or orange when he complained, but there was no doubt the big bronze was chafing, as all of them were.

- _we were flown here but we could have been flown to Benden_

_- too far for a straight flight, and you certainly would have been too heavy_

_- a dragon carries what it thinks it can carry_

H'ric watched a group of wherries explode into the air from the further valley, and decided there must have been carrion down there, or perhaps the dragon had warded the wherries from prey. The brown was now coming back to his watch post, and D'rian chuckled.

"That Freyanth, he purely hates wherries!"

"I'm not that keen on them myself, but they're useful. There must be caves in that valley for them."

D'rian glanced around the valley they were in, but there were no cave openings in the rock walls, which seemed to keep in the heat of this late summer. The heat that had caused wildfires across the lower plains had not struck up here; there were plenty of streams coming down from the snows to water the grasslands, and the hay harvest was good. No one farmed here, because the only way in or out was on dragonback.

"Beat you to the end of the row, Weyrleader!" D'rian called as he picked up his scythe, and H'ric howled in protest but matched him stroke for stroke as they worked their way across the valley end.

H'ric bespoke Jiverny at Benden in their late evening as he usually did. At first he had gone back and forth between the two Weyrs, but Sharama had put a stop to that, pointing out the two leaders could communicate easily and instantly through their dragons without risking lives going _between_.

- _how are you, lady mine?_

_- fine, H'ric. Have you had any rain there? We had heavy rain today for the first time._

_- nothing here, but the valleys are well watered._

_- how is Galanath? He tells me he's well, and getting better._

_- I think he is doing well, yes. And Dawan? Settling in?_

_- he's clever, H'ric, he's learning to read and write, but he can do sums lightning fast! He says it's something a trader boy picks up as he breathes. He might be young, and quite small, but he holds his own! How is your health?_

_- good. I fret that I'm not directing things at the Weyr, but in truth, we're in that state where we wait it out._

_- the tithe came from Benden, and the one from Bitra. Lemos is still dragging his heels, but I sent a courteous message to the effect that the dragons could come and collect, if he has difficulty getting his tithe train over the passes._

_- I can just see that sour little mouth of his when he received that message!_

_- oh, and we bought a load of fish from the coast, and it will be delivered once it's been salted down. My father sent a load of salt to us to help out with preserving._

_- kind of him! Anything else? You aren't fretting, are you?_

_- do I sound as if I am?_

_- well I don't know, not really, I suppose, but there's always something to fret over, isn't there?_

_- and for that reason, Weyrleader, we do well not to fret until the thing arrives on our doorstep._

_- I'll speak to you tomorrow, then._

_- goodnight. H'ric - sleep well._

_- and you, lady mine, and you_.

H'ric sat back against Galanath's hide and stared out into the late afternoon. Most riders had retreated to their weyrs to follow their own pursuits before the evening meal was served. H'ric had a set of harness to check, but it lay on his lap as he thought carefully over that conversation. Worrying about the Weyr would do no good, but he was trying to discern whether Jiverny, or indeed Haveneth, had seemed at all fretted.

- _Havenenth approves of the young people in the Weyr_

"Does she? She has an interest in them, I suppose."

- _they will match her next brood of hatchlings_

"And Dawan? Does he still speak to you?"

- _only occasionally if he is wakeful at night when he misses his family_

"Chandra can send a message through the drums if he has anything urgent to tell his son."

- _yes, I told him that and he is happy to be at the Weyr and learning of the dragons_

"Good. I look forward to meeting him again

- _if we ever get back to Benden and away from this place_

H'ric laughed and slapped Galanath's hide as he stood up to take the harness into the sparsely furnished weyr. He too was looking forward to returning to Benden and the embrace of his lady.


	27. Chapter 27

Safe home again, and taking up the reins of leadership. A holiday is always good, and if H'ric can interpret dragon speech and drum messages, at least they don't have the modern guilt-laden effect of mobile phones and emails!

2.8 - 8.8.198

Galanath and the other dragons came out of _between_ above Benden Weyr. They had been flying in formation as they left Telgar Weyr and emerged in the same configuration, Galanath leading them, flanked by Freyanth and Deneth, brown and blue. The rest of the healed dragons followed behind, a flash of colour against the summer sky as they hovered over the Weyr.

"Show off," H'ric said to his dragon, but he had to admit they made a fine sight, and now they had been seen, people pouring out of the caverns in the bowl of the Weyr to greet them.

- _this is to reassure them_

Galanath winged downwards without any of the slight hesitation he had been showing, then landed neatly and flipped his wings back. He raised his great head and watched the others come down to rest, the dragons on their ledges bugling a welcome which was echoed by the cheers of the weyrfolk.

H'ric dismounted to stand by his dragon, and Jiverny came across the bowl as the dust settled from the whirling patterns the dragons had created.

"Weyrleader."

"Lady Jiverny, Weyrwoman."

They made a formal recognition for everyone to see, and then H'ric leaned forward and kissed her, and Jiverny kissed him back, to the renewed cheers of the people all around them.

- _now who is the show off?_

H'ric laughed and knew Haveneth had told Jiverny of the exchange. She helped him take off his riding gear, a youngster running up to collect it and dart off to take it back to H'ric's weyr.

"Hmm. Too quick on his feet! You don't give them enough to do, lady mine."

"I expect he's practicing for the Weyr Games. They start in a sevenday."

H'ric realised he had completely forgotten about the Games that were Jiverny's project. The first games had been at Turnover Festival three Turns before, but now the Weyrwoman's ambitions had widened to embrace the Holds that looked to Benden Weyr, and moved the Games to the summer months.

"I'd forgotten," H'ric said ruefully.

Jiverny laughed at him and kissed him again.

"It's all organised, and invitations sent and accepted! In the old times, so Yorus says, they held Games like this every four Turns, and they ran for two sevendays, but I've arranged this over four days. Lord Runanan is greatly interested, and has sent competitors, which is good for the weyrfolk, to get to know others outside the Weyr."

She went to greet the other riders, and B'rnel came across to greet H'ric.

"You look better for that rest! You'd started to be all skin and bone, living on your nerves as Mima would say. That's a good colour in your skin."

"Hay harvesting up in the valleys does that for you. You've stored the bales we sent?"

"We have done so, and had a note of thanks from Benden Hold that they don't need send so much forage with their tithe. And you brought goods back with you?"

"Some half cured wher-hide that needs finishing off - I know there's old riding gear in the Weyr, but it needs to be checked over and made good for the new riders."

"Yes, we have that in hand, but new wher-hide would be useful."

"I'll have something to eat and drink, and then speak to the riders."

"They'd appreciate that. And - is Galanath healed completely?"

"So he tells me. There might be less of the showy demonstrations from now on, but there again - with Galanath - you can never tell what he might do."

B'rnel laughed and thumped his shoulder and led the way to the hall where food and drink was being laid out for the returning riders.

"V'nel is back," N'rin told H'ric. "Dobreth is still very badly off - I have my doubts if they will ever be able to fly against Thread."

"I've talked to him about it, and arranged some things he can do for me, messaging and such like," H'ric replied. "We were fortunate not to lose any dragons, in that maelstrom of heat and fire. M'dor and I have planned out some new moves to be practised in thermals."

N'rin nodded and moved on, and L'rens came over to refill H'ric's goblet.

"Good red Benden," L'rens said approvingly. "Last year's vintage, and a good few barrels of it as well, in the tithe."

"What about this year? It's been so dry, is there a decent grape harvest?"

"I'm told so, but last year may turn out to be vintage. How is Galanath?"

"Flying well, and eating well," H'ric replied, and gave the same answer to most of the bronze riders, including the very new ones from Haveneth's first hatching with Galanath. He was unperturbed by their interest, which was natural if the Weyrleader's dragon appeared in the least incapacitated.

- _they are not clever enough_

H'ric stored that remark away as he moved around the riders, greeting the younger riders coming up through the ranks and looking to make their way in the Wings; there might be potential for a couple of new Wings over the next Turn or two.

H'ric dropped in on the children's lessons during the day. He listened to Yorus teaching the duty ballads, one child already adept at accompanying him on the drum. He listened to Brond taking them through the finer points of animal anatomy, herdbeast as well as dragon, pointing out to them what everyone on Pern knew but perhaps did not appreciate, that a lot of the creatures of this world had six limbs instead of four. He sat down with the very youngest of the children and helped some of them with their letters and numbers.

In the low evening light H'ric stood at the mouth of the hatching grounds and peered in. None of the younger queens had risen this Turn, a worrying development, but M'dor had assured him Panath was getting decidedly proddy and requiring Alissia's close attention at all times. If Haveneth's pattern was reliable, she too would be getting proddy around this time, but Galanath did not seem to think she was ready quite so soon.

"Deep thoughts, H'ric?"

He looked around as Jiverny came up to him and slipped her hand through his arm.

"Oh - just - I think it did me good to be away for a while. To appreciate this is a Weyr with life in it."

"I thought you were going to repopulate the entirety of the empty Weyrs?"

He shook his head. "Too few Turns, lady mine. Yes, I want a Wing in each, intimately acquainted with its updrafts and turbulences, and able to cover some Thread fall. But no - this is the only Weyr we have in this Interval."

"Even if all the dragons lived here, it would still not be full. Was it ever fully populated?"

"I don't know - I would expect so at the height of a Pass."

Jiverny sighed and shook her head. "It's no use fretting, as we keep telling each other. Where are we going?"

"I brought you back some presents from Telgar."

Jiverny stared at him as they climbed to his weyr.

"Presents? What sort of presents?"

H'ric brought her into his weyr, both of them acknowledging Galanath on his ledge.

"Here - I found time on my hands in the evenings - and they were long light evenings - I made you some things."

Jiverny unwrapped the delicate baskets woven from leaves, and found wooden jewellery embellished with polished stones, earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet. The polished wood was a deep reddish colour, and the stones were like sparkling quartz, but of many colours.

"Oh - H'ric - oh - it's lovely!"

"I made some toys for Jerenic as well. Little carts on wheels, things like that."

"You haven't done any of this work for a while," Jiverny said, as she allowed him to put on the jewellery and admired herself in the mirror he held up.

"No, I know. I did some thinking up there - I have to give myself time for these sorts of things, and for reading and singing and such like - or like you, I end up fretting over things I can't mend at the moment."

Jiverny put the jewellery to one side and turned to face him.

"You are doing very well," she said in a low voice, and kissed him. "And I missed you."

"I missed you as well, lady mine, but there are ways to mend that, fortunately!"

And suited action to the words.

H'ric and Jiverny dressed in their best to greet their visitors for the Games. H'ric was touched and embarrassed to find Jiverny had stitched him new shirts and a jacket for the occasion, using part of the tithed goods. Most of the riders would wear old canvas pants and jackets to work with their dragons, most of their clothes patched and mended over the Turns, but looking around, H'ric decided everyone had made an effort to wear their best.

"It looks good," Jiverny said softly as the first coaches came up through the entrance to the Weyr. Telgar's Lord Holder had accepted the offer of dragon transport, but Lord Holder Runanan was the first out of his coach, and H'ric went across to greet him. The Lord Holder stood looking around, up at the heights, the Star Stones, around at the weyrs with their dragons, the bustle of activity in the bowl.

"My word! I've heard stories - but until you see it - it's huge!"

"Thank you, my lord. Did you never go up to the abandoned Weyr at Fort?"

Runanan glanced at him and gave a little shake of the head.

"I heard what went on up there as an - initiation - as they called it," he said with a curl of his lip. "I never felt that insecure that I wanted to join their stupid secret societies. So this is indeed the first Weyr I have visited."

Jiverny was greeting the newly wed Lady Holder, detailing drudges to take the luggage to the prepared guest quarters. The coachmen also would be accommodated where the draybeasts would not have close encounters with dragons, a thing that tended to spook most animals.

"Who else are you expecting?" Lord Runanan said as he walked with H'ric. "Telgar, I suppose, riding like a giddy wherry on one of your dragons?"

H'ric laughed. "Yes, he is coming, my lord. Also Bitra and Lemos."

"That must have taken some persuading!"

H'ric shrugged. "They are part of my remit, my lord, as you are. I take care of my own."

Lord Runanan glanced at him. "As you do not for others?"

"I give everyone their due, my lord," H'ric replied evenly.

"I am glad to hear it. That was a noble deed, to help quench those wildfires. I consulted our weather records in the Hold, and the weather patterns are supposed to be disturbed as the Red Star approaches, but I see notes in the older records of earthquakes and even mountains spouting fire out in the Eastern Ocean."

"Yes. I sent riders to the visible horizon to see if there was any activity, but so far apart from plumes of smoke and steam on some of the islands, all seems quiet."

"Out over the ocean?"

"Straight flying, rather than going _between_, I can assure you! Not even a dragon can emerge with any certainty from _between_ unless there's a visualisation."

"I suppose that's right. I hadn't thought of it."

"The Weyrlings start by visualising and memorising our own Star Stones, up on the rim of the Weyr, and once they're confident, they can be taken further and further afield. An experienced dragon can find most places on a clear picture from its rider."

"I'm told you draw competently yourself - do you use those drawings for the riders?"

H'ric thought about that as he brought the Lord Holder into the dining hall where _klah_, wine and fruit juices had been laid out for their guests.

"I don't know that I have done so, my lord. The problem would be that my view may be subjective, rather than objective. If I had some way of capturing the essence of the place as an accurate picture - "

"There must be a way to do that. I presume when men first landed they could do so, with their marvellous machinery."

"I don't know about that. My impression of reading old records and listening to stories passed down through the farming peoples is that a lot of the technology that brought men here was discarded or actively discouraged - they wanted to live a purer simpler life."

"And then Thread arrived."

"As you say, my lord, then Thread arrived. Human ingenuity surmounted that, which gives me every confidence that most problems on Pern can be surmounted by the ingenuity of the human spirit."

"Well said, Weyrleader, and I will second you on that thought. Ah - my lady - and the Weyrwoman - "

H'ric was glad to leave the probing questions the Lord Holder had, in order to greet others and make lighter small talk. The Lord Holders of Bitra and Lemos did not make such demands on their host, but H'ric could cope with their grudged acceptance of their ancestral ties to Benden Weyr. At least everyone was united in looking forward to the Games, he reflected, as he hurried to greet other guests, and the Games had a secondary purpose, to impress lands people with the normalcy of life at the Weyr, albeit with the companionship of the dragons.


	28. Chapter 28

Sorry about the long delay in uploading - it's jam and wine season and I've been out picking the hedgerows. Unfortunately I don't think I'll produce any vintage Benden red! I love athletics, and I hope there's a flavour of competition in this chapter.

9.8 - 12.8.198

"Go Benden! Go Benden!"

The yells and shouts from the stands echoed around the bowl of the Weyr and the running track and infield that had been made for the Games.

"Go Telgar! Telgar-Telgar-Telgar!"

H'ric leaned forward in his seat, intent on watching the runners. Each wore the insignia of their Hold, and a number, and he could see the young runner from Benden Hold easing forward towards the line. H'ric found his heart was hammering with excitement as he gripped the rail in front of him, vaguely aware of others shouting and yelling around him. Lord Runanan was on his feet as the youth from Benden made a final effort and breasted the tape which fluttered around him as he ran on, slowing, staggering, pumping a fist in the air in victory. The race co-ordinators were checking on the minor places, as Sharama wrapped a thin cover around the winner and handed him the flag of Benden Hold to wave aloft to the crowds.

"Hmm. And it looks as if you don't give him enough work to do, my lord," Viril, Lord Holder of Bitra commented. "My word though, he did well!"

He joined in the cheer for the winner and discreetly consulted his betting slips. H'ric had been aware that some covert betting was going on, but so long as the outcome of the races was not compromised, he had allowed it.

Jiverny sat back with a smile of pleasure.

"That's three races for Benden, my lord, one for the Weyr and one for Telgar, so far today. I think you have been training in secret!"

"Is it anything to do with me if they choose to run everywhere?" Lord Runanan said with a virtuous expression, but a twinkle in his eyes. "None of my lads have come anywhere near those of Lemos in the throwing competitions! My land is too hilly."

Jiverny laughed and agreed, consulting the sheet the Games steward had handed her, checking the times of the races, the times of the presentations. Youngsters were running up and down the steps of the stands, providing cooling drinks and iced fruit confections; L'rens and Sicceth had flown north to the wild snowy wastes they loved so much, and brought back barrels of hard packed snow for the refreshments.

"Where's the trader's boy?" Lord Cantin asked, and Jiverny half rose, and pointed down to the bowl where Dawan and the others had gathered as runners for the youth races.

"D'you think he'll Impress at his first standing?" Lord Cantin asked her.

"It's possible, my lord, if we let him stand at the next Hatching. Although he's young in age, and slight in stature, he's a very mature youngster, which comes of leading such a wandering life, I suppose."

Lord Cantin nodded, and turned to his other neighbour, and H'ric glanced at Jiverny, who gave him a smile and a nod, and H'ric rose to announce the next race. His voice was amplified by the bowl's acoustics, as M'nas slotted the names of the competitors into the race board.

No need to tell anyone Galanath had prompted Tirith with the names, or that the dragons were taking an active interest in the races and games, H'ric thought. This was the third day of the Games, and so far Benden Hold seemed to have the upper hand, if the total of first, second, and third places were totalled. There was a board showing that total, and everyone cheered or groaned whenever someone they supported moved the placings up or down the board.

H'ric accepted a cold drink and sat sipping it as the racers lined up. He had had a hard time persuading the Holders that girls should be allowed to compete, and they were by no means fully represented in the races, but this was one of their contests, and Lord Viril leaned forward to scrutinise them, sitting back with a satisfied huff.

"I told her she should not compete," he said in satisfaction.

"Who would that be, my lord?" Jiverny asked.

"My daughter! My youngest daughter, and a right little tear-away she is - it comes of the foster family I placed her with - an unfortunate choice - but there wasn't a lot of choice at the time."

"She has not been fostered to a major Hold?" Lord Runanan asked.

"No. One of my holders, a steady reliable man with a strong hand over the youngsters. It doesn't seem to have helped."

"Is she as bad as that?" Jiverny asked with a hint of steel in her voice. "Surely she is only a young girl, my lord?"

Lord Viril shrugged. "My wife - my second wife - was ill for a number of years, and spoilt the girl by keeping her close at hand, not allowing her to join with the other fosterlings in the household. When my wife died, I put the girl out to fostering immediately."

H'ric closed his hand warningly over Jiverny's clenched fist, and shook his head slightly, and she sat back, her mouth set in a tight line. Lord Viril had lost interest and was watching the runners line up, and then they were racing. The girl with the insignia of Bitra was quite obviously the best, and raced home with space and to spare around her.

"Good girl!" Lord Viril crowed, and Lord Runanan laughed and tore up his betting slip, pointing to his girl who had come last, pulling up and hobbling. Sharama was there at once, with two helpers, and she was helped away.

"Weyrwoman - "

"Our healers will report to you as soon as they know if it is serious, my lord. Perhaps just a strain, or exacerbating some niggling injury?"

"Yes, that could be true. Hmm. That puts you second, Bitra! Well - we will see."

The girl from Bitra had vanished into the crowd of runners and helpers, but H'ric could see her distinctive yellow hair as she went into one of the tents, no doubt to take the chance to wash and change, ready for the presentation. This was a single race, not a heat for a final, but there were plenty of those to fill the time before the presentation.

- _that is not the same girl_

H'ric nearly spoke out loud, and then sent back to Galanath

- _what do you mean? She won the race?_

_- no, another girl won the race and this one let her take her place_

_- they both have that colour hair?_

_- they dyed their hair to match each other so that the girl could race_

_- should I make a fuss? This one should not have the prize_

_- they arranged it so_

H'ric sat back and consulted his lists, seeing the name of the Bitra girl as Avenil. He scribbled a note on his wax tablet, and passed it to one of the boys coming down the stairs with a drinks tray, to be passed on unopened to Sharama.

- _there is a reason, I hope, and I'll find it out._

_- she was a good runner_

_- indeed_

The next race was a final of hurdles and water troughs, and Benden Hold was favourite for this. H'ric watched as P'tar and V'nel lined up with the others; the two dragon riders had come through last in their heats, and if no one was betting on them, H'ric still hoped they would do well.

"An interesting course," Lord Nathin of Lemos commented. "Is it based on anything?"

"Just the normal obstacles anyone working the land might encounter," Jiverny said with a smile. "Boulders and streams and such like. You'll agree, my lord, working the land builds muscle?"

"I would concede that. Your riders though - what exercise do they get?"

"Riding a dragon is hard work," Jiverny replied, maintaining her smile. "You have to compensate for the movement of the dragon, as riders do when they go over the jumps, and there's a deal of hard work in scrubbing and cleaning and oiling such a huge creature. Besides - those two riders were with the Weyrleader in the recovery period, and I imagine he put them to some hard work in building cabins and harvesting hay crops."

Lord Nathin glanced at H'ric.

"Hmm. Hasn't done the Weyrleader any harm, by the look of him. I used to help out at my foster-father's hold - I appreciate hard work."

"You were fostered?"

Lord Nathin shrugged. "Only for a few years, my lady, to get a feel of the land, so my father maintained. More to get me away from my elder brother, I think, we fought over everything, including the inheritance of the Hold."

"And you won?"

"No, my lady, he lost, because he caught a winter chill and wouldn't let it be treated," Lord Nathin said, his voice reverting to its usual sour tones. "Stupid fool! Leaving me to pick up the pieces of what he'd been busily trying to ruin - but that's old history - ah - they're off - no, don't race ahead of them, you idiot! Save yourself for the last burst!"

Leaning forward, he shouted encouragement and annoyance in equal measure at his competitor, and as he had predicted, the man was blown before the end, and P'tar surged forward, his long legs covering the ground in the last burst as he took the ribbon. A shout went up from the riders, echoed by the watching dragons, and H'ric hoped the beasthandlers had their charges out of earshot.

"Anyone would think they had won," Lord Nathin said as he sat back with a snort. "What wing is he in? We'll see a lot of him about the Hold I expect? Looks a likely sort of man."

"Thank you, my lord, yes, he's in my Wing, and he's overflown Bitra and made himself familiar with its landmarks for going in and out of _between_."

The placing for the Weyr had risen satisfactorily now, and the contests were coming to an end of the day, with presentations to be made, and H'ric and Jiverny excused themselves to go and attend those. Jiverny's father had sent a lot of silverware for the original Games, and some of those trophies were passed on with the names of the new winners engraved on them, but there were also new trophies, some of glass, some of wood, to be presented, all with a name plaque on them, engraved as soon as the winners were known.

_- she is hiding in the lower caverns_

_- why?_

_- there is a man who has recognised her and chased her_

_- send B'rnel for her_

"What was all that about?" Jiverny asked in startlement. "I caught something about a girl being attacked?"

"Not attacked as such," H'ric replied. "At least - not so far. Come over here and I'll tell you."

They found a quiet corner and H'ric told her about Galanath's conclusions.

"She could merely be disobeying her father and be ready to return home to that foster family?"

"Whoever she replaced could be in big trouble."

"Yes, I suppose so. Lord Viril looks quite capable of putting a worker to death if he was offended enough."

"Which is why B'rnel is finding the girl and protecting her."

They had to go out into the bowl then for the presentations, and H'ric stared hard at the girl from Lemos with the dyed hair, a crude douse in some sort of bleach, by the look of it, to give her that straw colour, although her own hair was light coloured. Perhaps Lord Viril's daughter had brown or black hair and had dyed it accordingly. H'ric handed her the intricately carved wooden goblet with the plaque, wondering if she had asked for the simple inscription - Avenil of Bitra - rather than a family name.

H'ric and Jiverny spoke to each of the winners, and then crossed to the lower caverns, ostensibly to check on any minor injuries Sharama might be treating. Behind them, drudges were already running out to clear the tracks and tidy up, and the audience were beginning to look forward to the evening meal.

Sharama looked up and nodded a welcome to the two Weyrleaders.

"Nothing untoward today, a couple of sprains and a few headaches, probably from too much good Benden red!"

H'ric glanced around, seemingly casually, and saw B'rnel leaning against the door to one of the smaller rooms. He and Jiverny made their way to the rider who jerked his head.

"Mima's in there with her. I warn you, she's in a towering temper!"

"Who? The girl? Why - "

"No, Mima is in a temper! She'll tell you."

H'ric and Jiverny went into the room and Mima glared at them. She seemed almost to have spread protective wings, H'ric thought, and he recognised how angry she was.

"We've not come to haul her off to her father, Mima," he said quietly. "Just to know what's going on, presumably because it's more than a simple case of disobedience?"

"I claim your protection, Weyrleader," the girl called out from where she was seated on the side of a bed. "A dragon rider can champion anyone with a just grievance! I ask you to intercede for me with the Lord Holder of Bitra!"


	29. Chapter 29

This is going to be a wordy few chapters, but I hope we will see some action as well. I took the mention of appeal to a dragonrider from the original book - I half remembered it and had to look it up - although I think it was never applied in that case. But we know F'lar was a fighting man.

11.8. - 13.8.198

Mima continued to bristle defensively, B'rnel stared out into the main rooms, and for a heartbeat the two Weyrleaders were too stunned to speak.

"She'll not be going anywhere until I get some answers," Mima said in a grim voice. "Like why she's bruised from head to toe, why every bone in her arms and legs seems to be damaged, and why she's no longer a virgin."

"What is your name?" Jiverny asked the girl directly. "We must guess you come from Bitra, that Lord Viril is your father?"

"I'm called Irilia," the girl said after a pause as if she were considering both of them. "Yes, I'm the youngest daughter of Lord Viril, not that it's done me much good!"

H'ric had spoken to B'rnel and now placed a chair for his Weyrwoman, who he considered would be the best person to question the girl, both of them being Hold reared. He retreated to the wall where Mima joined him, still angry, still with fists clenched, her breath coming in breathy gasps.

"I won't turn her out, Mima, not now she's claimed my championship," H'ric said softly. "Calm down, and let's hear her side of the story."

Irilia had squeezed herself back on the bed, and clasped her arms around her knees. H'ric took a moment to see she was dressed in boy's clothing, with serviceable shoes, as if ready to tramp the wilds.

"I would have got away, me and Avenil both," Irilia said now. "But by bad luck, Ronad, one of the men where I was placed, recognised me. He said he'd not tell - if I let him - have what - what - "

Jiverny nodded. "We understand that bit. What made him think he could demand that of you, my dear? What went on in the past that he should think you a loose girl?"

Irilia stared at her, and H'ric found he was almost holding his breath.

"Him - holder Dinad - the man my father put me with - started by beating me, like he flogged all his children and servants," she said eventually. "Then he started - touching - rubbing - and - it wasn't him but his son Dadin - who finished it off."

"But surely, they must have known you would eventually be claimed back by Lord Viril?" Jiverny asked. "At the very least, when he had arranged a suitable marriage for you! How old are you now?"

"Sixteen Turns. He put me out of the Hold when I was eleven - after my mother died - he didn't even let me go to the funeral - or - or - visit the grave - "

Her voice wobbled, and she swallowed hard, flung her head back and stared at the stone ceiling.

"I didn't want much," she whispered. "I just wanted - to have an ordinary life - I'd been in those rooms all my life - I used to stare out of the windows at the others - coming and going - I asked to join them - my brothers and sisters - and he put me away - for that to happen to me."

"Are you saying he knew this holder Dinad would violate you and abuse you?"

Irilia stared at Jiverny for a long moment, and then shook her head reluctantly.

"I suppose he might not have known. But he knew holder Dinad was a hard man! He boasted to me about how meek and docile his children were! Now I know why! He's a vicious brutal man!"

"So it seems, my dear," Jiverny said. "Weyrleader, what are the procedures in a case like this?"

"I must go and consult the records," H'ric admitted. "I've not known it happen before, but there must be procedures."

"Harper Yorus might know," Mima put in. "Him being trained in harper matters - laws and such like?"

"Holder Dinad nearly beat a harper to death one Turn," Irilia whispered. "Just because of singing the duty songs, and insisting the children should learn them - we never sang anything - nor learned anything."

"You could read and write, though?" Jiverny asked.

"Mother taught me, when she was awake enough. I had scrolls and records in her room to read, and practice my writing."

"Why did you run in that race?" H'ric asked into the next long silence. "You took a dreadful risk, and Avenil also."

Irilia looked across at him.

"We'd planned to be holdless, but then Avenil was picked for the games, because of being such a good runner, and I always practiced with her - it kept us out of the house. So instead of going out into the plains at Keroon, we decided to come here into the mountains where there're lots of caves - even in the hold we'd heard about the far northern valleys the Weyr harvests - those would be better - if Thread comes."

H'ric nodded. "You could live safely in a lot of those valleys. Just the two of you?"

"There should have been two others - but they died - last Turn - we had a lot of illness in the hold - holder Dinad wouldn't send for a healer."

H'ric cleared his throat and looked across at Jiverny.

"I suggest you stay in the lower caverns, under Mima's care," he said. "I will consult the records and confront Lord Holder Viril."

"That man - Ronad - he might have already told him I'm here."

"He might have done," H'ric conceded. "I'll go right now. No one is going to drag you out of the Weyr, nor offer you any violence, until this matter is settled one way or another."

"I won't go back," Irilia said at once. "Avenil won't either - she might be his daughter - her mother doesn't know - they should all be punished - "

H'ric could see she was close to breaking down. Mima shooed both Weyrleaders out, and H'ric put the chair across the door as they joined B'rnel.

"Well? Did you hear that?" H'ric asked.

"Yes. Sharama did as well - what are you going to do?"

"Consult the records first - everyone will be eating soon - I'll go up now."

"You do know the dragons were listening in?"

"Riders and dragons form a relationship where what affects one, affects the other," Jiverny replied. "We can no more keep secrets from our mind-partners than from our life-partners. I'll go and do the pretty in the dining hall."

H'ric slipped into his place at the dining hall as the sweet course was being placed on the tables. He nodded an apology to the Lord Holders, murmuring vaguely about Weyr business, and poured white wine for Jiverny.

"I found references," he whispered as he handed her the goblet. "We are in the right."

She nodded, and turned to speak to the Lady Holder of Benden who wanted to know how they had managed to keep the milk puddings so firm and cold, and Jiverny promised her a tour of the kitchens and the copying of some recipes.

"Of course we have to thank bronze rider L'rens for bringing us the snow," Jiverny added with a laugh. "Transporting it _between_ means very little is melted by the time it reaches us. Perhaps he might be persuaded to do the same for the Hold."

"If the Weyrleader allows such a use of his dragons," the Lady responded shyly. "It would be lovely to have chilled drinks."

H'ric had been looking around the room for any sign of the man Ronad, but B'rnel leaned across to serve him some roasted nuts as an excuse to speak.

"I found him headed up to the Lord's quarters and detained him," he murmured. "I also said he would have a chance to speak about his holder's splendid care of his fosterlings in due course. He didn't like that at all."

"Well done. I'll call for a justice session as soon as I can."

None of them found it easy to remain polite and smiling when they spoke to Lord Viril, and H'ric knew Lord Runanan had picked up on their stiff dislike as he glanced from one to the other of them. Lord Cantin was watching the diners and seemed indifferent, but H'ric noticed he seemed to be counting heads.

"What remains tomorrow, Weyrleader?" Lord Runanan asked. "I know there are finals of many contests, and the last presentations to be made?"

"That is true my lord, and then people will begin to disperse to their own places."

"It has been splendid," Lord Nathin said. "A time apart to forget the differences between us, and make new friends."

Since he was notoriously suspicious of strangers in his lands, that was a handsome admission, and H'ric acknowledged it as such, taking the opportunity to ask about the new fruit orchards being planted after the forest fires.

"I'm putting in a wide fire-break, and settling several holders up there," Lord Nathin told him. "With Telgar's co-operation." He nodded to Lord Cantin who acknowledged him and agreed it would be a joint effort, as Lord Nathin spoke again.

"Orchards of soft wood trees won't burn so fiercely as those sappy evergreens, nor fling boluses of fire from tree to tree. That - I do not want to see again."

"I do like fruit," Jiverny said, and Lord Nathin inclined his head in a bow.

"You shall taste the first fruits, Weyrwoman, I trust, in the fullness of time."

"That would be delightful. Ah - the harp comes around - Lord Holders - I wonder if the Weyrleader and I could ask you to attend us in a private room whilst the festivities continue?"

"I thought there was something," Lord Runanan murmured, as he stood up, glancing at his wife. "Will you uphold my honour with the harp, my dear?"

She assented with a smile, and he followed the others into the room usually used as a classroom. It was incongruous, H'ric thought, to see the adults in their fine costumes in this brightly painted room, but B'rnel had provided adult sized chairs for everyone.

"Splendid decoration!" Lord Runanan said as he gazed around. "This is your classroom, I would guess? Splendid indeed."

"Thank you, my lord. If you would sit here - Lord Viril - if I could ask you to sit here?"

They were arranged in a semi-circle, the four Lord Holders, with H'ric and Jiverny at the points, and B'rnel standing by the door as if to be messenger and guard in one.

"So why are we called here?" Lord Nathin asked. "Is there something you wish to tell us about the dragons, about the Weyr?"

"It is about a holder on Lord Viril's land, a man called Dinad," H'ric replied. "Lord Viril's daughter the lady Irilia has asked me to champion her name, and get justice for her, against the Holder Dinad."

"Irilia - Irilia has asked you - " Lord Viril spluttered.

"She ran the race instead of Avenil," H'ric told him. "I presented the prize to Avenil, but Irilia was waiting to join her and go holdless."

Lord Runanan drew in a breath and Lord Nathin shook his head.

"Why should she ask for you, Weyrleader? And does she have a legal precedent?"

"I consulted Harper Yorus and our records, and it is an acceptable thing. Granted, I have never seen it done before - "

"There are records at Telgar about this," Lord Cantin confirmed. "I read everything I could find, after my father died, and about a hundred Turns ago, Benden Weyr intervened in a case on my Holdings. So - continue - Weyrleader - where is the girl now, by the way?"

"She's safe, they're both together under the care of the Headwoman and her assistants. There is a man, Ronad, at the Games, who recognised her."

"Ronad? He's one of Holder Dinad's men. Good responsible man," Lord Viril commented with a note of approval in his voice.

"I understand he attempted to force his attentions on her," H'ric responded.

Lord Viril shrugged. "A few drinks - he'll have a sore head - the girl over reacted. I'm more interested in why she defied me and attended the Games!"

"Did she ask your permission?" Lord Cantin asked.

"Yes. Wrote me a letter with some rubbish about wanting to come home, and wanting to compete in the Games. I sent back a refusal, of course."

"That you did not want her to race, or that you did not want her at home?" Lord Cantin asked at once. "I can understand your grief at your wife's death, but putting her daughter out to fostering so quickly - and leaving her with a man she disliked - "

"My wife only had the one child," Lord Viril replied. "She fell sick soon after the child was born, and I made them a household of their own."

"I understand you have been married to your present wife for close on five Turns," Lord Nathin said. "A little - unfeeling - to wed so quickly?"

"A Hold needs heirs."

"You had four sons out of your first wife. I fostered the youngest of them - and a very sorry specimen he was, to begin with."

Lord Viril scowled at him.

"Yes, and you spoiled him! He came back full of ideas and plans, and I sent him off to be fostered at Fort straight away."

Lord Runanan nodded. "I met him there. He went into Healer Hall, to train. He did not call himself Bitra."

Lord Viril shrugged, and H'ric looked around the semi-circle.

"The lady Irilia asks for justice, my lords, against the Holder Dinad. She claims she was regularly beaten and abused by him and his sons, and one of them committed the ultimate abuse, against her will."

Lord Cantin frowned at him.

"Has this been proven? Has the girl been examined?"

"Yes."

"By your people," Lord Viril sneered. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"You can send to Healer Hall for an independent examination if you wish," H'ric replied.

"And how long would that take?"

"The blink of an eye," H'ric replied. "A message by dragon rider, a Healer returned here by the same means. I have in fact sent out several of my senior riders to fetch the Holder Dinad and his son, and they, and the man Ronad will appear before us in due course. But you will want to question the ladies, Lord Holders? B'rnel - be so kind as to ask them to attend us, with witnesses."

B'rnel nodded and left the room, and Lord Viril looked around the other men, glanced at Jiverny and away again.

"I see you have all judged me already," he muttered.

"By no means!" Lord Cantin said at once. "I judge no one until I hear both sides, but it is in the end not our judgement the girl claimed, but that of the Weyrleader. If he becomes convinced, then his word is the judgement we must accept."


	30. Chapter 30

This has been difficult - we are not dealing with a deranged creature like Fax here, and although there were physical punishments on Pern - exile or shunning - one person's word without judge and jury in a court of law must always be a balance of judgement. I hope this meets with everyone's approval.

12.8.198

Irilia and Avenil came into the room escorted by the Headwoman Lavand. They were dressed in girls' clothing again, but Lord Viril spluttered with rage when he saw his daughter's hair, cut short and dyed.

"What - what - who did that?"

Lord Runanan inclined his head to Irilia.

"You have made serious charges, and claimed justice from the Weyrleader, lady Irilia. We must know if the things you allege are proven."

"Do you want me to submit to an examination here in this room, my lord? The Headwoman has examined me, with the healer Sharama, and they are satisfied."

Lord Runanan studied her, and H'ric saw she was taut with nerves and anger. This would take careful handling, he thought, if he was not to have both girls break down in front of the Lord Holders.

"We will accept their word," Lord Runanan said. "Do you agree, my lords?"

Lord Cantin nodded, and Lord Runanan looked at Lord Viril.

"Well, my lord? Do you require further examination?"

"I daresay she cries rape now, when she has been found out," he replied cruelly.

"It is not for the son of a minor holding to despoil a lady of the Hold," Lord Nathin said angrily. "Did you have a marriage planned for the lady?"

"No."

"What were you plans, then? To leave her there all her life?"

Lord Viril shrugged and looked away from them.

"Her mother was mad," he muttered. "How could I know the taint would not carry on in her? Could I offer any man a girl whose mother screamed and raved and tore out her own hair?"

There was a shocked murmur around the room, and Irilia took a pace forward.

"My mother suffered from headaches, debilitating headaches, all her life!" she said angrily. "They grew much worse after I was born, she told me, and there were times she could not bear the pain and tried to give herself other pain to relieve it! Darkened rooms, and muffled sounds were all she could bear at the best of times!"

"Headaches? All women have headaches," Lord Viril said dismissively. "I claimed back part of the settlements I had made, when I found out the extent of her madness! Her father paid me, and said she had always been a sickly child."

"And yet he forced her into marriage with you?" Lord Cantin asked with dislike in his voice. "I never met the lady, but I understand she married you at a very young age."

"Sixteen," Lord Viril muttered. Lord Runanan stared at him in shock and looked at Irilia.

"How old was your mother when she died, my dear?"

"Under thirty, my lord," she replied.

"And how did she die?" Jiverny asked gently. "You merely said she died when you were eleven - do you know how she died?"

"She committed suicide," Lord Viril said loudly. "Or else the girl killed her!"

Irilia turned and looked at him, her lip curling.

"I wish I could have helped her, many, many times I wished it," she said. "She burned her hand, and the healer brought fellis juice against the pain. Mother asked for a hot bath, and drank all the fellis juice, and opened her wrists in the bath. I found her," she added, and the ache of loss and grief in her voice was still raw enough for H'ric and Jiverny, empathic people, to give a low moan of grief for the girl.

"She burned her hand?" Lavand asked. "How did that happen when she was an invalid?"

Irilia shook her head.

"She was active enough to rise and dress every day, Headwoman. Only when the headaches were at their most severe, would she stay in bed day and night. I think - I think - she burned her hand deliberately to get the fellis juice, because that was the only occasion anyone brought medicine to our rooms."

Lavand nodded as if satisfied, and H'ric cleared his throat.

"Your father the Lord Viril placed you in a foster home at the age of eleven? That is quite old for fostering, even for a Holder's daughter, is it not? Lord Runanan?"

"By eleven I would expect a Holder's daughter to be learning how to run a household, and to be a part of that household," he said carefully. "After all, within four or five years, she might be betrothed, or married, and in her husband's family home."

"But you, Lord Viril, placed her with a minor holder - ah - B'rnel - place them over there, if you please."

The three men who had been brought in, protesting, were placed where the Lord Holders could see them. They appeared prosperous, with good clothing, and the likeness between two of them showed them father and son.

"Holder Dinad, your son Dadin, and your man Ronad, I believe?" H'ric asked. The three men nodded, nervously looking around at the four Lord Holders, and at B'rnel once again at the door.

"Aye, that's our names," the youngest of them said. "What is this? We were snatched, father and I, from our business around our hold. My lord Viril?"

The Lord Holder shrugged and indicated H'ric.

"This man - the Weyrleader - wants to question you about the girl Irilia I placed in your fostering."

Holder Dinad stared at the two girls.

"Avenil? And - is that you, Irilia? What's going on - you were never given permit to leave the hold, young woman!"

"When did you miss her?" H'ric asked, and Dinad scowled at him.

"I don't count people in and out of their tasks! I assumed she was working in one of the outside barns, so I didn't demand her presence at the dining table. Not that it's a pleasure to have her there, nasty sour-faced girl that she is."

"The lady Irilia, who is, I remind you, the eldest, and at present the only, daughter of the Lord Holder of Bitra, has asked me to champion her against you and yours," H'ric continued. "She claims you abused her during all the time she was with you, and your son Dadin deflowered her."

Dinad stared at him, and around at the people in the room.

"I'm known to have a firm hand with fosterlings," he said. "Lord Viril knows I've knocked many a nephew of his into shape over the years. I admit I don't foster that many girls, but the treatment's the same. Hard work, plain food, and no frills. There's nothing wrong with that regime."

"And the beatings and abuse? Do they come with the territory?" H'ric asked.

"She's making it up," Dinad said angrily. "Stupid mopish creature. She had her own bedroom, which is a luxury in my house!"

"Making it all the easier, one suspects, for your son to attack her," H'ric replied at once, glaring at Dadin who looked away. Dinad turned to look at him, and then at Ronad who shrugged and also would not meet his gaze.

"Is that true?" Dinad asked his son. "I never gave permit for the girl to be touched! The lord Viril never indicated he wanted her wed, or giving birth, and I certainly don't want you mixed up with a girl whose mother was mad."

"Did Lord Viril tell you she was mad?"

"Yes he did. He said I was to take care of the girl, and if she showed any signs, he'd come and take her away and deal with it."

"What did you think he meant by that?"

"I don't know! Lock her up, I suppose? He might have thrust her out of the Hold any time these five Turns, to live holdless, or again - "

He broke off, shrugging and H'ric made a note on the pad in front of him.

"So you clearly thought you had her in your care - such as it was - for her whole life. That does not explain your ill-treatment, nor that of your son."

He turned to face Dadin.

"Did you deflower the lady Irilia? Believing her to be of no worth on the marriage market and, presumably, an easy mark?"

The young man flushed scarlet, and then the colour ebbed to leave his face a shiny dough-coloured mask.

"I never touched her," he muttered, then repeated it more loudly. "I never touched her! She's as mad as they said, to accuse an innocent man! I daresay she flipped her skirts at all the drudges, who's to know?"

"She claims it was you," H'ric reminded him. "You deny it?"

"Totally!"

"Avenil, did the lady Irilia confide in you after she was attacked?" H'ric asked, and the hold girl nodded.

"She came to me, and I did what I could to stop the bleeding and - and - things - he'd done to her - we thought of going to holder Dinad, but it wouldn't have done any good."

"Did anyone else know of this attack?"

"One of the drudges helped us," Avenil admitted. "I needed hot water, and she was suspicious of anyone taking hot water during the day - it wasn't allowed - not even for washing. She helped us. She was going to confront Dadin, but like us, she realised it would be useless."

H'ric looked at the young man, who was starting to look uneasy.

"And who did you boast to, young man? I presume you couldn't keep such a secret to yourself? Did you tell Ronad, and is that why he tried it on when he found the lady Irilia in the Weyr's lower caverns?"

"I never - I didn't attack her - Ronad - tell them!"

Ronad stared at the young man, and then around at the Lord Holders and the Weyrleaders.

"What'll you do to him?" he asked.

"The lady Irilia will be given all her dowry money, and a safe place to live," H'ric replied. "I have no interest in seeing a man hanged, although that young man richly deserves it."

"So she won't be around the hold no more? She won't be spreading any lies about us?"

"What she chooses to tell anyone is her own responsibility. With her dowry money the lady Irilia can make a new start wherever she wants."

"I don't have that kind of money!" Lord Viril snapped. "Her mother's dowry is long spent!"

"Lord Runanan?"

"The daughter of a Lord Holder has certain aspirations," he replied. "Bitra is quite a small place, but I would be pleased, with Lord Nathin and Lord Cantin's help, to adjudge an amount for a dowry."

Lord Viril sprang to his feet, and seemed about to launch himself at Lord Runanan, then controlled himself, swaying, gripping his chair, spluttering with rage, his face an unhealthy puce.

"B'rnel, a glass of water for Lord Viril," Jiverny said, and B'rnel leaned around the door to give the order.

"Sit down, my lord," Jiverny continued. "You are being given a way out of this, unless you wish to cry out on the Weyrleader in single combat? Or any of you others of his Hold?"

Dadin took a physical step backwards, shaking his head.

"If we get shot of her, that's good enough for me," he said hastily. "Father?"

Dinad scowled at him.

"I'll deal with you when we get home," he said in a malevolent whisper. "I don't want the girl on my hold any longer, that's for definite sure."

H'ric turned to Irilia.

"This is not the best conclusion for you, my dear," he said gently. "There is your word against his, and although there can be no doubt you were attacked, it would be hard to prove?"

She nodded slowly, watching her father sip at the water. His face regained some colour as he drew deeper breaths.

"I would welcome the money I would expect as a dowry, Weyrleader," she said at last. "That money, and the chest of stitched goods I made during my incarceration at the Hold, and the things I owned at holder Dinad's place, to be brought to me here until I make a decision on my life's course. I intend never to return to Bitra."

H'ric nodded, glancing around at the other Lord Holders. Lord Runanan still looked as if he wanted to argue the point, but Lord Nathin shrugged.

"It is one word against another, as you say, Weyrleader, and although I am convinced in my own mind that the culprit stands over there, apart from Shunning, I see no other way around this, beyond a punishment in monetary worth to the Lord Holder."

"You cannot punish me that way, when the fault, if any, lies in a worthless holder's son!"

"We leave it to you to mete out your own judgement on that," Lord Nathin said at once, and Lord Viril glared at his holder who suddenly realised, from the expression on his face, that he would be in debt to his Lord Holder lifelong.

"Very well," H'ric said. "I judge the lady Irilia to be the wronged party, and reparation is to be made to her by the Lord Holder Viril, in the sum of her expected dowry, and her goods, to be brought, untouched and undamaged, to the Weyr as soon as they can be assembled. I will send my Wingsecond B'rnel to collect each and every detail of the lady's possessions, and if she finds anything missing I will collect its worth from all of you."

He stared around the room, and the Lord Holders were nodding. H'ric signed his name on the notes he had made, and handed them around to be countersigned, and Jiverny went across to the two girls.

"You have done splendidly," she said softly. "Come away now, and rest yourselves - Avenil - will you accompany the lady Irilia for the present?"

"Yes, m'lady, I'll look after her until we're set on course again. Come now, Irry, and let's be having your name put on that cup, eh? Seeing as you won it fair and square!"


	31. Chapter 31

A quickie to keep us up to speed! Thank you for all your reviews, which tells me you're enjoying our little jaunt into the worlds of AM.

15.8.198

"Whatever are you doing down here, lovey?"

H'ric looked around as Mima came into view around the edge of the huge storage barrels in the lower caverns.

"Just checking."

"And the drudges and the Headwoman don't do a good enough job for you?" Mima sat down on an upturned crate, setting the glow basket to one side. H'ric turned his back and began marking his list again.

"Benden red, Benden white, cider from Keroon, fruit juices and vinegar," Mima observed. "I know what's down here, lovey, but I want to know why you're down here, so far into the Weyr we could probably break out the other side."

H'ric straightened and looked around, giving a shrug.

"I don't know, Mima, I just feel - angry - all the time - "

"You quarrelled with your lady," Mima said with a nod. "I thought you had. Hiding away down here isn't going to help, and if I tell you Haveneth is blooding her kill, what are you going to do about it?"

"Maybe there's someone out there better than me at managing this place," H'ric muttered. "I don't seem to be able to do it right."

"Is this because of the lady Irilia?"

"I knew she'd accepted my judgement, however reluctantly, but I didn't think she'd go holdless!"

Mima sighed out and came over to take H'ric into her arms.

"Lovey, she had an awful time in that hold, and with the man denying it so hard, what other judgement were you to give? As for holdless - I think you'll find she's only just outside the Weyr, thinking and deciding."

"You think she hasn't run off to those northern valleys?"

"I'm sure of it. Lavend's family farms on the lower slopes of the Weyr, and the lady accepted respite with him and his family. Avenil went with her, don't forget, and that's a very sensible girl."

H'ric rested his forehead on Mima's shoulder, feeling her patting his back.

"I suppose I had sharp words with Jiverny for no reason?"

"The best reason of all, that her dragon is blooding her kill. And if you don't get up there, Galanath will miss his chance to show all those other bronzes he's been fooling around with that bad shoulder!"

H'ric straightened and stared down at her.

"Galanath can chase Haveneth without me being present," he pointed out.

"Yes, and that would be too much of a novelty! If you run, you should reach the Weyrwoman's place in time. Cut through the outer opening, through there, and you'll be able to call Galanath to pick you up. Well go on! Unless you want that L'rens as Weryleader and your lady's mate?"

H'ric dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and ran. He knew these Lower Caverns very well, having for years been part of the crew unloading supplies and storing them. He ran lightly through the unloading area, hearing the bawling of beasts from the feeding ground, and then he had burst out of the opening of the Weyr.

- _mount quickly_

H'ric ran across to Galanath who had winged down to the roadway, and was poised, wings half lifted, ready to take them both back to their weyr.

"Don't time it!" H'ric shouted as he clambered up and gripped Galanath's neck spines.

- _we are too close to ourselves._

Galanath found a thermal and soared, high up, the Weyr falling away below them at dizzying speed. H'ric caught a glimpse of people working, turning the meagre soil in the small fields, and then Galanath soared up and over the edge of the Weyr, and landed neatly on his own ledge.

H'ric slid down off his dragon's shoulder and ran down to the Weyrwoman's rooms. All the bronze riders were gathered there, and Jiverny was seated, her expression completely blank, obviously caught up with Haveneth as the gold dragon blooded her kill for the second time. H'ric shouldered his way to the front of the riders, hearing the low mutter from them, as if they had not expected him to be here.

With a roar of provocation, Haveneth launched herself off the feeding grounds and the bronzes launched from their ledges, screaming their defiance at each other as they caught the thermals and tried to outmanoeuvre each other.

H'ric was aware of Galanath circling around, and then with shocking suddenness Galanath barrelled his way through the bronzes, scattering them for those vital few seconds that gave him the advantage, as Haveneth twisted around to confront him, finding and soaring on a thermal, and Galanath winged after her, arrow straight where she was drifting and circling, and with a roar echoed by his rider and the queen rider, Galanath twined himself around the golden queen and brought her once again into his embrace.


	32. Chapter 32

Another clutch, another headache for H'ric in his contest with the Lord Holders!

15.11 - 17.11.198

H'ric stood with Jiverny, his arm around her waist, as they watched Haveneth circling fussily around her eggs. Several loads of fine Ista sand had been delivered, and the eggs lay glistening and hardening on the hot sands.

"Twenty and a gold, lady mine," H'ric said ruefully. "How the Lord Holders will not love us!"

"The gold is taken care of without any external searching," Jiverny replied. "I've a dozen good steady girls ready to take their chances on Impression."

"Should we do that? Look only to our own kind this Turn? There's a good choice of boys."

Jiverny nodded. "Send to the Lord Holders, by all means, but if they refuse a Search, don't press them."

H'ric sighed and shook his head.

"Twenty only," he murmured. "Yet the records show that as the Pass approaches, the queens rise often, and lay huge clutches."

"Do we know their definition of huge? Twenty to thirty is Haveneth's average figure, but in her first two matings she only laid ten, and no golds amongst them."

"I know. As to size - no I don't know. If the Weyrleaders had been kind enough to send their records to Benden for safekeeping, I would know a lot more!"

Jiverny laughed softly.

"If that had happened we would all be a lot wiser! And more able to counter the Lord Holders and the Craftmasters as well, I suspect. Two hundred Turns of being able to shout down and outvote a single Weyrleader at Conclave have not helped their manners, nor their ability to hide their heads in the sand."

"Yes, I'm aware of that. I'm minded to call a small conference of all the Wingleaders, to discuss the way forward in this Turn. I don't doubt the tithes from Benden, Bitra and Lemos will come in, and one from Telgar as well, but if the other Lord Holders can delay their own tithe - "

"There are precedents for those," Jiverny said as they turned to leave the Hatching Grounds, aware of the heat through their shoes. "We have records of what should be given by each. And with a hundred extra young dragons to feed from these last three Turns, we must hunt the wild foods as much as we can."

"Yes, I've asked L'rens to scout north, and sent D'vern out to High Reaches. There's the western ocean as well, beyond High Reaches, there must be fishing vessels out on those waters, perhaps willing to sell us food."

"What will you use for money?"

H'ric smiled at her as they emerged into the bowl of the Weyr, shivering in the chilly contrast to the Hatching Grounds.

"There is money in the Weyr, money that comes with the tithed goods."

Jiverny nodded as they stopped to watch a flight of Weyrlings exercising above the Weyr. As H'ric had said, a hundred dragons had been hatched, if they included the present clutch. That would make up for the loss of any of the older riders, and there were undoubtedly dragons and their riders who were aging now, less able to ride the thermals and take part in the exercises with firestone.

"We'll call that conference, then, and look to the youngsters, once you've sent to the Lord Holders?"

"Yes, that would be best. I'll go and write the messages now. The messengers can take a weyrling with them to teach them and orient them to the Holds."

H'Ric looked around the long table in the dining hall. The drudges had served the _klah_ and sweet biscuits, and everyone had been served. Jiverny sat to his right in her high backed chair, and the bronze riders had ranged themselves along each side.

M'ris, L'rens, D'vern, W'rim, C'rin and M'dor now constituted the senior and most experienced Wingleaders, and on the other side of the table were the younger bronze riders, all of whom looked to one of the seniors for training.

"Gentlemen," H'ric started. "Thank you for attending. The Weyrwoman and I thought it timely, with another clutch on the sands, but none of the other queens rising this Turn, to take stock of where we are, and what we hope for."

"A stay of execution in the coming of Thread," W'rim growled. "The Red Star doesn't seem any larger, for all it still seems to be coming near the Star Stones. Is there an explanation for that?"

"No," H'ric said frankly. "We've all consulted the Records we have here, and questioned the oldest members of Holds and cots we can find, in case they remember something their grandparents told them. No one seems to have any memories, or want to remember anything their forbears told them."

"We sent Yorus down to Harper Hall, ostensibly to gather new music and make a new instrument for himself, but also to find out what he could," Jiverny said. "There were records found at Fort, two generations ago, but no whisper of what they contain is known to us. No farmers or herders will go near the abandoned Weyrs, claiming they're haunted, but there's no telling what they actually fear."

"I went over to High Reaches, briefly, to stake a claim on that Weyr, and there were signs of old fires," D'vern said. "How old, I don't know. The fisherfolk of the western coast are entirely uninterested in dragons, saying they don't farm the land, but that they'll always be able to fish, Thread or no Thread. In fact, they said old stories were that Thread brings the fish nearer the surface."

"That would make sense," L'rens said with a nod. "Free fish food. If Thread falls in the winter in the northern valleys, there's no problem with that, because Thread can't survive in very cold weather. Summer would be different, the valleys would be cleaned out."

H'ric repressed a shudder, and Jiverny made a note on her pad.

"But Thread doesn't breed," M'dor pointed out.

"Of course it does!" L'rens snapped. "It decimates everywhere it touches!"

"Yes, but it can't breed. It can't do, because if it did, Pern would be a lifeless husk by now, coming up to the Eighth Pass since men came to Pern, and who knows how many unprotected Passes before that? Thread comes, it proliferates in burrows, spreading outwards, but then - presumably - it dies - of overconsumption - or something - and life restarts."

"Yes. How far and how fast a burrow would spread is another matter, and one the Lord Holders would do well to address," Jiverny replied. "But if Thread comes in regular patterns, and we know it must do so, as the rain and snow comes over the land as the world turns, then some places will not be infested in some Turns, and others will be heavily infested."

"You're placing a Wing in each empty Weyr," L'rens said. "And I'm taking responsibility for the land north of us and around Benden? Are the junior bronze riders to attach themselves to each senior?"

"Yes, that's what I wanted to work on," H'ric replied. "I want to watch all of you working, and look at the Weyrlings coming into the wings. We've three hundred or so dragons and riders now, and perhaps a Turn before Thread, if it comes on time. It may be we've not counted right, that there may be a few more Turns."

"And are we going to be fed?" M'ris asked. "I've patrolled the area around Fort Weyr, been as far as Ruatha - where I was at least welcomed with a meal and a good few beasts for Fineth. But Fort Hold itself remains inimical. Are we Searching for this clutch?"

"I've written to the Lord Holders, asking their permit - "

"Since when did a dragon rider need permission to Search?" C'rin asked heatedly. "Igen is poorly supplied with arable or pasture, but I've become friendly with the Lord Holder's son, and he says his father is always reluctant to lose workers."

"That's the story all over Pern," M'ris put in. "I've spoken to holders and cot holders, and all of them live in fear the riders will swoop and take all their best youngsters. In vain, I tried to explain to them that twenty youngsters spread over the whole of Pern would make scarcely a dent in their workers, given the fecundity of their women, but they won't listen."

"There's far too much emphasis on having children often and with too small a gap between them," Jiverny said. "I saw it as I was growing up at Ista, and I suspect from what the riders tell me, that it's getting worse. Those who have land want to hold onto it, and those who work for them are encouraged into having more and more children to work that land."

"This northern continent is huge," L'rens conceded. "But a full half of it is unworkable land, unless you herd beasts to and from summer pastures, or rely on hunting in the wild to make a living."

"Men came north to shield," H'ric agreed. "Shield what, or from what, or to what, we have no idea, but I can tell you if the population goes on increasing like this, there won't be a spare spadeful of land anywhere in Pern."


	33. Chapter 33

A little filler chapter to keep us going.

20.11.198

Galanath circled lazily above the hillsides of Ruatha. He seemed to be enjoying spreading his wings and hovering, gliding on the winds of the winter's day, an unexpected bonus that it was warmer in Ruatha than in Benden.

H'ric peered down over his shoulder and saw several wagon trains making their way to Ruatha Hold.

"A gather," he said aloud, and Galanath looked downwards as well.

- _shall we go and see the watchman?_

Without waiting for an answer, the great bronze tipped his wings and began to glide down towards the prosperous Hold, carved out of the rockface generations ago, presumably when men still had the stone cutting tools to do it.

"I'm not dressed for a gather!"

Galanath did not answer, but descended to the watch tower heights, landing neatly in a place where H'ric thought dragons had probably landed since the first dragons had hatched.

- _there have been notable dragonriders from here_

"I'm aware of it. They have a proud name to uphold."

H'ric stripped off his helmet and gloves, and unwound his scarf as the watchman came hurrying towards him.

"Good day to you, bronze rider. Is there a problem?"

"No, none, I was patrolling and saw the people down on your gather field. It is a gather?"

The watchman nodded.

"The last one before the end of the Turn, I would think, bronze rider. The Lord Holder is below, will you go and greet him?"

H'ric assented to that, and Galanath tucked himself up more comfortably on the ledge, lidding his eyes. H'ric climbed down the stone staircase, smelling the food and drink from the gather.

He met the Lord Holder at the bottom of the steps. Lord Miccel stared at him, and then bowed abruptly.

"The Weyleader, Lord H'ric, is it not? I met you briefly at Fort, but I had to hurry away. What brings you to Ruatha? Problems?"

"I saw the gather, and wondered if I could guest myself on you for the day?" H'ric smiled as he said it, reviewing what he knew of this man, which was not extensive. As Lord Miccel had said, he had stayed only briefly at Fort, and had not cast a vote one way or the other.

"Of course, we would be honoured. Is the Weyrwoman with you?"

"She is at the Weyr - we had another twenty one eggs from Havenent's last mating."

Lord Miccel looked sharply at him. "You aren't on Search?"

"We thought we would look only to the Weyr children this time around," H'ric replied, and Lord Miccel shook his head.

"If you want to Search Ruatha you're welcome to do so. Call your Weyrwoman, if you like, and ask her to join us here? I'd be honoured."

"The honour would be ours, my lord, thank you."

"Ruatha has produced dragonriders down the generations since the first dragons were bred. Mardra of Fort Weyr came from here during the Eighth Pass." Lord Miccel looked hard at H'ric. "And where do you suppose they are now, all those dragonriders who should be helping you get ready?"

H'ric shrugged. "I would like to think they are ready and waiting somewhere, my lord, but I'll not know that until Thread comes."

Lord Miccel grunted in agreement.

"Those fools seemed to think it was finished. I'll believe that when I no longer see the Red Star in the sky at all, never mind coming too close for comfort. It's visible in daylight, even this far south, now."

H'ric nodded. "I know that, my lord, and I'm pleased someone else takes note."

"Come into the hall, and let me show you something."

They entered the great stone hall, and Lord Miccel indicated a woven tapestry.

"Its old, of course, done at the end of the last Pass, but the colours have lasted well in here - I don't allow any direct sunlight to fall on it."

"It's magnificent," H'ric said sincerely, viewing with awe the scenes of dragons and Holders united to fight Thread. "Are those ground crews? What are they using?"

"We don't know," Lord Miccel said regretfully. "Some sort of device to burn Thread on the ground, we presume, but if there was ever any knowledge of how they were made or used, it was lost in the last two hundred Turns. I blame the Smiths, myself, for not keeping proper records. Everyone knows the Harpers can sing the history of this world, but when it comes to complex gadgets like those, I'd prefer to see a written record detailing how to build another."

"I would as well," H'ric admitted as they turned to walk out of the hall. "I think because the Harpers have all the knowledge, it's unusual to see anything written down."

"Lot of stupidity there," Lord Miccel said. "Don't say I said so, especially since the Masterharper is here."

"Serellim is here?"

"Yes. I'm hoping he might honour us with a song or two, but I'm told he rarely performs now, if he ever did so."

"He must have learned as an apprentice and journeyman?"

Lord Miccel sniffed. "If he did, he's soon forgotten such humble origins! He's paying court to one of my sisters, but I don't know that I'll approve the match - let him get his pleasures in Harperhall, not drag any of my relatives there. Poor little Consicel has had her head turned, but she can't hold a tune to save her life - how would she cope living with music surrounding her day and night? No, I'm determined on this."

Lord Miccel detailed a young fosterling to escort H'ric, and he took a moment to ask Galanath to bespeak Haveneth.

_- she comes already with Fineth_

H'ric glanced aloft and the bronze dragon had just come out of _between_, circling down to join Galanath on the heights.

"Oh - is that another bronze, my lord? They're so big - will they both fit?"

"I'm sure they will, and they'll probably take the opportunity to go and bathe in your ice lake, it's quite famous, you know."

The boy shuddered. "I don't know how anyone could bathe in that, dragons included."

"But compared to the absolute cold of _between_, it's probably like warm bath water," H'ric said with a laugh as they waited for Jiverny and M'ris to come to join them.

"My lady. Bronze rider."

"My lord. Thank you for calling us - a gather - I do love a gather! Let me go and make myself known to the Lord Holder."

H'ric accompanied them, and Lord Miccel called for wine and cakes, and showed the other two riders the tapestry before he would let them go.

The three of them walked out of the hall and down to the gather field. Music was already playing where Harpers were performing on the stage, and the ground in front had been cleared for the dances that would happen later in the day.

"Oh, this is fun," Jiverny murmured. "Look - that's Ista's badge - I wonder who my father sent, and what he hopes to trade?"

"Would he have sent it by land?" M'ris asked.

"No, just across Big Bay and then up from Ruatha River Hold," Jiverny replied. "It's late in the season, about the last crossing, I would think."

They followed the Ista man, and he led them to a stall selling glassware, plain bowls with a swirl of colour in them, and goblets with the same swirl of colour in the stems.

"Those are pretty," H'ric said. "Is that a new technique, stallholder?"

"New to Ista, certainly. It's not been passed by the Crafthall, but it's good serviceable stuff for the table."

They bought several bowls and goblets and the stallholder promised to deliver them, wrapped, to the hall.

"Look there, leather work as well," M'ris said, and the three of them wandered around the stalls, looking and exclaiming at the work they found.

"Our own crafters can produce much the same, but without the prettification," Jiverny said as they paused to buy a drink and something to eat.

Lord Miccel was passing, a young woman on his arm, and the Masterharper Serellim was with them, and paused to look across. H'ric gave him a nod of greeting but did not speak, but Serellim excused himself to the Lord Holder and crossed to them.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Weyrleader. Lady."

"Are you? A gather is always an excuse for people to get out and about, Masterharper. I hear you will be singing later?"

Serellim scowled. "I have journeymen to do that for me. I'm here for pleasure, not for business."

"I would have thought your business to be the whole of Pern and its well-being," H'ric replied, with a smile to take the edge off his voice. "Do you have new songs? I'm looking forward to Yorus coming back with new songs."

"I've sent him to Tillek," Serellim said malevolently. "He's my journeyman, still, and he can do good things there."

H'ric gave him a half bow.

"As you wish, Masterharper. Fortunately he left us with a competent singer and player of instruments, so the children will be able to continue to learn their teaching ballads."

"And the question song," Serellim said. "Don't forget that one, Weyrleader. Where have they all gone, indeed? The Lord Holders and Craftmasters would have it they have suicided."

"Unlikely," H'ric replied calmly. "Where they are, I would not hazard a guess at present, but hopefully all will become clear."

"And if they do not return? Three hundred dragons to sear the whole of Pern free of Thread?"

"Of course we must prioritise those lands that tithe direct to us," Jiverny murmured with a smile and shrug. "You can see how it must be, Masterharper? Benden first, then Bitra and Lemos, but hopefully the stone slopes of Fort, and your own stone roofs, will ward off the rest of the Fall."

Serellim stared at her, and his complexion turned pasty grey.

"You are proposing to leave - to leave - the whole of Pern unguarded?" he sputtered.

"Not at all. As the Weyrwoman says, prioritising will be the order of the day. The Lord Holders will have ground crews out with agenothree - I presume you will have the same, at the Hall?"

"But - with the farming lands denuded - famine - you cannot be serious!"

H'ric glared at him.

"I am perfectly serious, Masterharper. The Lord Holders and Craftmasters have made their position clear, and mine is just as clear. My duty as a dragon rider is to save all that I can of Pern, but throwing three hundred dragons around the sky, scurrying hither and thither after Thread, will not be in our best interests. We attack in groups, Masterharper, and fly definite patterns against Thread. What befalls the rest of Pern where we cannot reach - is going to be out of my control. Good day to you."

They walked away, leaving the man behind staring at them.

"He manoeuvred the Lord Holders and the Craftmasters into denying Thread at that conclave," H'ric said furiously. "But when I tell him I cannot protect the whole of Pern, he thinks better of it!"

"You told him no more than the truth," Jiverny said, and then they had caught up Lord Miccel and his sister Consicel, and M'ris escorted her to the dance floor, calling for a dance tune from the players, who obliged, and the dance floor began to fill.

"That M'ris," Jiverny said with a laugh and a shake of her head to Lord Miccel. "Your sister will come to no harm with him, I assure you."

"It might do her good," he replied. "She can't dance, you know, she can't hear a tune."

Jiverny turned to watch.

"But she can hold the beat, and M'ris will do the rest," she said with a smile to him. "Have you seen the glassware my father sends to the gather? Simple stuff, but it's selling very well."

"I'm glad of that. Since that conclave I've been in contact with him about those mountains of his, how to get better cultivation on the southern slopes." He fell silent, gazing out at the land around them.

"I will lose all this to Thread, will I not?" he asked quietly.

"I cannot tell you, my lord, if that will be so," H'ric replied formally. "We will do our best, you can be assured of that."

"I know you will. Come, what sort of gloomy talk is this for a gather? Will you do me the honour of a dance, Weyrwoman?"

With a laughing look at H'ric Jiverny allowed herself to be swept away by the powerful Lord Holder, and H'ric stood watching with a pleased smile, which lasted until a journeyman harper sidled nervously up to him.

"Ah - Lord H'ric - Weyrleader - this for you."

He proffered a scroll, and H'ric took it and unrolled it, scanned it quickly, and then stared at the nervous young man.

"Journeyman Grance. You are to be our new harper?"

"The Masterharper has indicated it to be so."

H'ric fingered the scroll, unsurprised to find the ink still damp. He examined the smudge on his finger, and handed the scroll back.

"Keep that, harper, because there's precious little new parchment or hide at the Weyr, you'll need to write small but legible."

"I'm - to come - really - with you - "

H'ric stared hard at him.

"Didn't you know?"

"The Masterharper came up to me just now - I'm supposed to be playing this evening at the gather then going back with him. I'm one of his special journeymen."

"And now you are my harper," H'ric said with a grim smile. "I take it you have nothing with you but the clothes you stand up in?"

Grance nodded unhappily, and H'ric took him by the elbow.

"We'll soon fix that. Come along."

"Where - where - are we going?"

"Harperhall of course. M'ris! Where is your flying gear? In the hall? I'm just borrowing it."

H'ric towed the reluctant harper into the hall and made him climb into M'ris' flying gear which swamped the smaller slighter man. Then H'ric forced him up the stairs to the heights where Galanath, alerted by his rider, was waiting. Fineth watched as H'ric pulled Grance up to sit on Galanath, and tied the harness around him and gave the signal for flight.

"But - I thought - I'd walk - or take a runnerbeast - Weyrleader - noooooo - "


	34. Chapter 34

I really don't like that Masterharper! Unfortunately, of course, like many who winkle their way into a job, it's probably going to prove impossible to get him out.

"oooooooooo - I'm going to be sick - "

"Nonsense. You'll soon get used to travelling this way."

Grance stared around at the environs of Harper Hall, and H'ric unbuckled the harness that held the journeyman to him.

"Come on, get down - ah - Yorus - "

Yorus had come running up, looking flushed and angry.

"Weyrleader! I'm to go to Tillek - I can't disobey him - I'm sorry - "

"No, it's I who should apologise," H'ric said angrily. "I never thought he would be so petty and vindictive, or I would never have allowed you to come here. I'm saddled with this journeyman now. Is he any good?"

Yorus gave Grance a fleeting look.

"Yes," he said honestly. "He's very good indeed, Weyrleader, at composing music. Whether he can sing anymore - you have to wait, you see, after your voice breaks."

"Sharama can oversee that. What about instrument use?"

Grance was glaring at both of them.

"I can answer for myself, Weyrleader," he snapped. "I have made instruments that gained a Master's mark."

"Good. Go and collect all your things now - don't leave anything behind, because I won't be able to spare a dragon to come and collect a spare pair of socks - which you'll need very shortly."

He made a shooing gesture, and Grance practically ran to the living quarters. Yorus watched him go.

"The Masterharper said I couldn't go and collect my things, Weyrleader."

"That's all right. Galanath bespoke Nineneth, and D'vern is bringing your goods. He'll also fly you to Tillek, part of his overview so he knows the co-ordinates. I should think that's a right maggoty place to walk to!"

"Seven days hard riding on a runner beast," Yorus said ruefully. "I don't have access to one of those, so I was faced with a month of walking."

"Taking you right to Turn's End, probably," H'ric agreed. "You have your commission? Who do you displace?"

"I don't rightly know. I had hoped - the Masterharper might have considered - making me a Master."

H'ric shrugged. "That won't happen in his lifetime, Yorus, and I'm sorry I've spoiled your career and life plan."

Yorus grimaced. "I've only been back here for a few sevendays, but I can tell you, it's already too much for me! I'm content, Weyrleader, to go to Tillek and make my little songs."

"Be sure to send us copies."

Yorus laughed. "I'll do that, never fear!"

H'ric nodded, looking around the concourse where Galanath was crouched. Music was being sung all around, and he could hear the drums sending a message.

"How good is Grance really?" H'ric asked bluntly.

"Oh, he is good at music! Your problem will be to get him to stop cringing and whining! No, that's unfair of me. He fell foul of one of the gangs here, as an apprentice, and they haven't stopped bullying him ever since. Subtle stuff, mostly, but occasionally - that's one of them now - Radic - he's a bully of the first water."

H'ric watched two drudges hurrying towards him with Grance's belongings. He could recognise instrument cases, and he hoped two sturdy wooden boxes carried music. Grance himself carried a large unwieldy grip of clothing, banging it awkwardly, and as H'ric watched, the journeyman Radic tripped him slyly on the last step out of the Hall, and Grance stumbled, tripped, and came down heavily. He dropped the grip, and with a well aimed kick, Radic sent its contents cascading down the step.

H'ric was across the yard before anyone else could move. He grabbed Radic by the ear and twisted, forcing the young man to face him. _Not so young, _H'ric thought with a shock_. Too old to be a journeyman, so an incompetent as well as a bully_.

"You'll repack that grip, young man," H'ric said.

"I will not! You've no authority here - ow! That hurts - get off me!"

"Are you going to strike a Master? Because I'm the Weyrleader of Pern, and I rank at least as high as a Lord Holder or a Craftmaster. Are you going to add that stupidity to your usual antics?"

Radic staggered free of H'ric's grasp and glared, but he bent and hurriedly stuffed the spilt clothing into the grip. H'ric took it from him and turned to Grance.

"Can you walk to Galanath? Ah - here's D'vern."

To the delight and awe of the apprentices who had appeared in the doorways leading into the Hall, the bronze dragon Nineneth back-winged and landed neatly, and D'vern climbed down.

"You wanted me, Weyrleader? I've harper Yorus' belongings, and the Weyr is mighty unhappy about this."

H'ric nodded as Grance hung onto the harness straps and flexed and tensed his ankle, taking the grip from H'ric and tying it on with his other cases.

"I can't say I'm too happy about it either, but we get the Masterharper's special journeyman, so we'll hope for some notable music from him, eh? Can you take Yorus to Tillek?"

"Nothing easier. I'll stop there for an hour or two as well, have a look around, and report back. You don't want me to take our new harper to the Weyr?"

"Thanks but no. I'll do that, and then I need to get back to the gather at Ruatha before the Weyrwoman rends the Masterharper limb from limb when she discovers what he's done."

D'vern grinned at him and gestured Yorus to climb on board Nineneth. H'ric watched him go, and wink into _between_.

"I suggest you find a few sick-bags, journeyman, because you have at least three trips _between _before you seek your bed tonight. Actually, you're going to miss out on a night's sleep, because Benden is 6 hours ahead of Ruatha, so by the time the gather ends, and we go home, it'll be dawn."

Grance nodded, and pulled on the flying suit H'ric had lent him. H'ric could not decide if the journeyman was sulking or paralysed with fright, as they settled onto Galanath and took off for Benden, arriving as the sun was beginning to set.

"Of course, if we time it, we can arrive here at the same time again," H'ric observed as he helped Grance climb down, drudges coming at a run to take his belongings.

"You can't time it so close to yourself," Grance muttered as he followed H'ric into the caverns. Lavand was waiting with flying gear that fitted much better, and H'ric folded M'ris' gear up to take back to Ruatha.

"What about your instrument for tonight?" H'ric asked Grance.

"It's still at Ruatha."

"Good enough. Off we go, then."

Grance glared at him and then shrugged and followed, not limping, but favouring his twisted ankle.

"So how did you fall foul of Radic when you were apprentices?" H'ric asked.

"He accused me of being a - of liking - I had the finest treble voice of my generation."

"Ah. If you are that way inclined, of course, the Masterharper has done you a favour by putting you in a place where it's common nature amongst green and blue dragonriders."

"Well I'm not!"

"Plenty of pretty girls as well, in the Weyr."

"With my looks?"

"Oh ho! And who said that to you? Radic again, eh? Forget him, because in all likelihood you'll never see him again, and certain sure if you do, he'll still be a journeyman in the Harper Hall and you should be a Master. Isn't that what being the Masterharper's special journeyman means?"

"Yes."

"Then he's cut off his nose to spite his face, hasn't he?" H'ric said with a laugh. "Because you're now the harper of Benden Weyr! Hold on - up we go - "


	35. Chapter 35

Woa! Nearly lost him there! Canon states there are fevers and illnesses on Pern, but not the most common human diseases. Given our present understanding of genetics and modifications to the DNA, I suspect that in such a small population there must be sufficient mutation to produce some unpleasant and potentially virulent illnesses.

1.3. - 1.4.199

_I want to say goodbye to him. I'm not that ill. Let me go and say goodbye to him. They went without saying goodbye, but I can see where they went, I can go there as well, it's not a long journey._

_You will stay with us. You will stay here, not follow them._

_I want to go with them. They left me. I'm alone._

_You are never alone, never whilst we are here, will you be alone. You must stay with us._

_But I love them._

_You love us as well. We love you very much, and our loving will keep you with us. You must not follow them, you must stay with us._

_You love me as well?_

_We love you as one. We are one in loving you. You must stay with us. Stay with us, do not go, we will not let you go._

"H'ric, can you hear me? He's still wandering, Master, he can't hear us at all."

"But he can hear something, you can see the way his eyes are moving, and his throat, as if he's answering someone."

_You will stay. They want you to stay. You make them sad with wanting to go. Stay with them. Wake and speak to them._

"J - Jiverny?"

"Oh - H'ric - oh - you're awake at last - "

H'ric stared up at Jiverny's face. He did not seem able to focus on it, he thought he had been staring into something bright and hurting, and he blinked a couple of times, and a cloth, cool and damp, was wiped gently over his face and eyes, and he found he could see better.

"Jiverny? Are you - are you crying, lady mine?" He wondered why his voice sounded so hoarse and uncertain.

The Weyrwoman leaned back and wiped her face with the back of one hand, the other still holding H'ric's hand.

"I was so afraid. I thought you were going to die."

"Who else - is here? Someone spoke to me - a lot of voices - in my head."

"You were answering them, my dear man," Masterhealer Perera said quietly as he took H'ric's wrist to feel his pulse racing. "We could see you were speaking to someone by the movement of eye and throat, but it was in your mind, only in your mind."

"In my mind - yes - they told me I had to stay here." He blinked into the shadowy room. "Where is here?"

"This is a small island off the coast of Ista," Perera said, and reached for a goblet. "Can you drink a little water for me? There's a straw - no need to lift your head - just turn gently this way."

H'ric obediently sucked the cool water, finding it sliding down his parched throat and relieving the stickiness of his tongue.

"Ista. Why are we at Ista, lady mine?"

"You've been dreadfully ill, H'ric. There was a fever, one the Masterhealer had never encountered before."

"It was similar to other fevers, enough so that we knew to isolate the patients."

"But you - might have caught it - and you, Jiverny!"

"We have had a light dose, it's true," Perera replied in his honest and forthright way. "But only the most serious cases have been brought here. You are one of them. I have a dozen other people from all over the western coast of Benden and Nerat here. It seems to have struck at that coast, perhaps because there was a storm, and things were washed up on the beaches, carcases and unknown vegetation."

"Carcases? People?"

"No, mostly animals, but so decomposed it was impossible to discover what they were. But now - you must rest as much as you can as you recover. Now you've taken a little water, you can take this solution of salt and sweetness as well. It doesn't take particularly nice, but it will help."

He stood up and stretched, and smiled at H'ric, before leaving the room. Jiverny still had his hand in hers.

"That's right - there was fresh fish delivered to Benden Hold - and we had a share - and then - people started falling ill."

"Yes."

H'ric closed his eyes, and felt Jiverny wiping his face and hands again with the cool damp cloth.

"That's nice. My skin feels so tight."

"I'll use some of the softening oil on it. Part of the fever was that everyone's skin seemed stretched and purpled. Frightening to look at, but not serious."

H'ric squeezed her hand gently, unwilling to move his head, which was aching from the light. Jiverny reached and pulled a curtain and plunged the room further into semi-darkness and H'ric relaxed and lay listening to the sounds of people, movement and murmuring in other rooms, he presumed, in whatever Hold they had built on this island. He was disinclined to move or think very much, but he wondered what had happened to the voices that had made him stay.

"They wouldn't let me follow my parents," he murmured aloud. "My parents both died in a mining accident - mother worked at the mine head offices. It was all blown apart from the back-draft as the adit collapsed. I didn't say goodbye to him, not properly."

"That's a shame, but not something you can mend or cure now, so long in the past now," Jiverny replied.

"Yes. They wouldn't let me follow."

"Who wouldn't? Were you dreaming, H'ric, or perhaps hallucinating?"

He opened his eyes and looked up into her concerned face.

"It was the dragons," he said in wonder. "All of them. I could hear all of them, all at once, singing me back to life."

"The dragons? Our dragons?"

"I could hear Galanath of course, his voice was strongest, but I could a lot of others as well. They pulled me back."

He could see she was communing with Haveneth, and very faintly in his mind he could sense them, and also the background of other voices.

_- you will always hear them_

_- I can't distinguish single voices any more_

_- no but you can hear them speak_

"I could still hear Haveneth," H'ric said.

"Yes, she told me you could hear her. I don't know if you'll ever have the ability as Moreta did, to hear every single dragon speaking clearly, or just hear something like the background chatter at the dinner table."

"I could pick out a few words here and there. Haveneth is still at Benden?"

"Yes. By asking her to remain there, I could direct the other riders through their dragons, and the Masterhealer could reassure her I will not as desperately ill as you - and others - were."

"We're lucky we don't have to rely on drum messages or runners. Where's Galanath?"

"Down on the beach. Most of the dragons that are here have made nests for themselves in the sand."

"Dragons here? Did other riders fall ill?"

He stared up into her face, and could see she was debating what to tell him. He squeezed her hand, and she responded, with a deep sigh.

"We lost six riders, and a number of drudges, and three children, but not Jerenic. Nor your particular care, Dawan, or the lady Irilia who is still living outside the Weyr boundaries."

H'ric sighed out and closed his eyes again, and Jiverny offered him the fruit juice in which he could taste salt and something he thought might be fellis, as he drifted to sleep, in which state he could distinguish the dragons speaking, a background swell and fall of sound.


	36. Chapter 36

Recovery can be such a fragile thing - I have had a touch of winter vomiting bug, and very unpleasant it was as well - I can't image what it must be like in a culture where you have no modern medicines to fight disease.

1.3 - 1.4.199

Over the next few days H'ric rallied his physical strength. The rash and the sensitivity to light receded, and he was able to eat, but he did not seem able to shake off the mental lethargy into which he had fallen. He responded to Galanath, and the people caring for him, and rejoiced with them when he was moved out of the darkened rooms and onto the veranda with the other recouperating patients. There were two fishermen from Nerat out there, and they told him more about the debris that had been washed in on a storm tide, and which had spread the disease.

"Never thought such a thing could happen, like, but now the Masterhealer's warned us, we'll send word up and down the coast, not to touch such a thing. Let the sea take it again."

"Would it have taken that lot?"

"No," the fisherman admitted. "It were washed too high up, see, it would've taken another storm to take it off, but we could've dug a pit and buried it, rather than picking it over. Sorry, all of us, to have spread it, even up into the Weyr."

"Disease doesn't care where it strikes," H'ric said ruefully.

"No, but when there might be a Pass, we need the Weyr healthy."

"Might be a Pass? Why d'you put it like that?"

"There's an old fisherman saying, Weyrleader, don't know if it's accurate, don't even know if it works, _Red Star in the offing, bright flash shining, Red Star in the offing, long break coming_. Now, my grandfather always said he saw that flash. I don't know if he's right, any more than I know anything else, but I tell you, there ain't been the storms and upheavals they talk about in other Passes. Why, entire islands were swallowed up in fire, so it's said! I've not seen that, nor heard of it, and if anything disturbed the fishing, it'd soon be passed along."

"That's true," H'ric said thoughtfully. "This business of Pern being disrupted by the Red Star is written about in the Weyr, with warnings about contrary updrafts and so on that might catch a dragon unprepared."

"Huh! You'd just drop in and out of _between_, wouldn't you?"

"I'd hope to be able to do so, but sometimes even a dragon could be caught out, and if their wings are damaged, when you come out, there'd be a danger of falling from the sky."

"Oh my. I never thought of that. Yes, like a bird with a damaged wing. That'd be bad. We needs the dragons to protect us. Hear you lost a few?"

"Yes, I'm told we did. I don't know who, yet, they won't tell me."

"They should do," the other, older fisherman said at once. "No good leaving you to brood over it, Weyrleader, you get them to speak them names out to you, and all the others that died as well. We two lost a couple of dozen in our village before they found us, and brought us two here - not saying we ain't grateful for the care, but when we get back - there'll be grieving families and fishing craft without a crew, no doubt about it."

H'ric thought about that as he watched people swimming off the beach of this small island. It had a wide beach backed by the area where the huts had been built, and green forest beyond that, and he could hear birds calling from the centre. He could discern the hump of Galanath sunning himself in the weyr he had made.

_- the little brothers used sand before caves_

_- who are the little brothers?_

_- those that came before dragons_

_- that's too far back to remember_

_- the little brothers don't come any more, since men frightened them away_

H'ric sighed and shook his head; it all seemed to no purpose, the way firelizards had disappeared, the way the Lord Holders had greedily taken all the land to themselves. There must be more to life, but at present he could see nothing but a bleak future of fighting and death.

"Hola, Weyrleader."

H'ric looked up from his meal and saw Grance stepping up onto the veranda.

"Grance! Were you taken with this sickness as well?"

"Not so badly as some, but the Masterhealer asked me to come and rest myself. I've been helping Sharama and the others, you see, and he said it wasn't good to spend all that time in the Lower Caverns, out of the sunlight."

H'ric surveyed him.

"You do look pale," he admitted. "How is it at the Weyr? We lost riders and their dragons, and others?"

"Yes, but it was not so bad as some places, I'm told, because of course the Weyr is isolated and once the main fury was spent, people recovered."

"But not the dragons or their riders. They won't tell me who we lost - I suppose they think I'm not strong enough to bear the truth."

Grance sat down on the veranda and brought his gitar around in front of him, and strummed a little dance tune.

"Is that right? People are strong, y'know, Weyrleader. Strong enough to rise above a fear, mostly."

"You weren't," H'ric said cruelly. "Those bullies at Harperhall - "

Grance shook his head and played a dissonance.

"That was my fault, and I thought I had no supporters, see? But I learned in the Weyr that everyone helps out. You know L'rens helped me get over my fear of dragons, by taking me up with him."

"Yes. He always said you'd the makings of a dragon rider. Maybe I'll present you at Impression and see if he's right, eh? Won't he laugh!"

"No, he won't," Grance said gently. "Because L'rens is gone, Weyrleader."

"L'rens? L'rens is dead?"

_- Sicceth is no more, I felt him go when his rider died and we mourned them both_

"L'rens - I can't believe it - who were the others?"

Grance looked up at him.

"They haven't told you? But you're the Weyrleader, you need to know, more than anyone else."

"Who else?"

"J'mal and M'dic, of M'dor's wing. They took it to Telgar, but no one else died there, although it was a bad outbreak."

"They would have been lonely without each other," H'ric whispered, because the green and blue riders had been inseparable since their first dragon-induced mating.

"Yes. And who else?" H'ric demanded

"N'rin, the Weyrlingmaster, and two of the weyrlings, H'vel and N'tel."

"And L'rens."

"And L'rens. He'd had a touch of fever, said it was nothing much, and insisted on flying to his valleys to fetch snow to cool everyone, and also to keep the medicines cold. Then one day - the dragons started keening - and he never came back."

H'ric stared over Grance's shoulder at the bright sea and the sky, aware they were blurring in his sight. Grance struck a chord and began to sing in a minor key.

"_They are gone now, _

_Passed between now,_

_They have gone, and left us here to mourn._

_They are gone now, _

_Passed between now,_

_But we hold them always in our hearts._"

H'ric became aware the Jiverny was holding him, rocking him, as the paroxysm of grief shook him. Someone was speaking angrily, and Grance was answering, but H'ric could hear the dragons singing the lament Grance had composed, and somehow that helped them as well as him, he realised, as he wiped his face and took a sip of water.

"No, don't berate him, lady mine," he said to Jiverny. "I had to know and that song - is a comfort."

Jiverny nodded slowly.

"Yes, you're right. I'm sorry, Grance, when I know you overstrained yourself in the Weyr."

"I had to help out where I could," he said on a sigh and a shake of the head. "These fevers - surely in the past, when men first came, there were medicines that would stop them in their tracks? You could use something to make sure it didn't spread?"

"Yes, there are references to that in old records," H'ric admitted.

Jiverny jumped to her feet and paced angrily.

"I don't blame the Masterhealers!" she burst out. "But all that knowledge - what happened to it, after we came north to build the Weyrs and the Holds, after the First Pass? What happened that made it so difficult to go forward rather than backward?"

"I wish I could answer you, my lady," Perera said as he came along the veranda. "I know there are diktats in the Hall, to stop anyone trying - certain things - that I think could have helped. Now we will never know, until the next outbreak, wherever that is."

"And the miners dying of dust-lung," H'ric said. "Old before their time, Masterhealer, their breathing short and difficult, and then dying."

He nodded. "I've documents about that, but apart from actually sealing a man in a protective suit in the mines, or having him wear breathing apparatus we can no longer make, I don't know the answer."

Jiverny drew a breath and unclenched her hands, seemingly surprised she had drawn blood.

"It's no good trying to apportion blame," she said at last. "What has happened is how it is, and we have to make the best of it, and copy all the old records as they decay."

"I think I'll go and see Galanath," H'ric said suddenly, and Master Perera studied him.

"You feel strong enough? Off you go, then, but try and sit in the shade he makes, rather than out in the sun. No, don't stop him, my lady, he must get some muscle strength back."

H'ric was nonetheless dismayed at how weak he felt as he stepped down off the veranda, and began walking on the loose sand. Galanath had raised his great head and was watching, and as H'ric approached him, he reared up on his hind legs, flapped his great wings, arched his head to the sky and screamed his defiance of illness and death, Thread, the Red Star, everything, in one huge bugle of sound.


	37. Chapter 37

Still in this time span, with quite a lot to cover. Thank you, all of you, for your reviews, they do a lot to encourage me to carry on with the story, although we know the ending and H'ric does not.

1.3 - 1.4.199

H'ric was sketching the island's shore line, comfortably propped by Galanath's bulk, when his dragon huffed into the sand by his foot.

- _the big man with the big voice comes_

H'ric had no difficulty in interpreting this as the Lord Holder Jamas of Ista, and quickly tidied himself and stood up.

"My lord."

"Weyrleader. You look a lot better, and probably feel better, I suspect?"

"Thank you, I do. Thank you for loaning us the island."

"The least I could do, when the Masterhealer asked me if I could take some sick people. You'll not mind that I didn't want you on Ista itself?"

"Not at all. I'm told you had no touch of this fever?"

"It seems to have burned its way through Nerat and Benden, touching Keroon, but nothing came further west this time. There have been world-wide plagues, I've records of them. I've been told by my daughter to come and offer you my records room."

H'ric smiled involuntarily at Lord Jamas's tone, and the Lord Holder laughed, a hearty boom of sound.

"Yes. Quite. Once the Masterhealer declares you fit, you can come and read through what I could find about the beginnings of the various Passes. Like everyone else, I can't say it makes a lot of sense - Ista is so warm and damp records seem to decay very quickly."

"Thank you. I want to compare the starts of the last seven Passes if I can get records going back that far."

"Fort would be your best bet, but of course he ain't likely to let you look! What were you doing, sitting there, staring across the island?"

"Drawing," H'ric said, and produced his sketch book. He used leaves stiffened with starch, and then coated in varnish, and although they did not last long he could draw with charcoal and chalk on them.

"Very nice. I expect you could get paints and properly sized canvas from the Painters, but I doubt if they'd let you have any. It's the same with all the Crafts, they hold onto their things as if - as if they own them! When it should be for the good of all. Nasty inward looking creatures, most of them. The Masterhealer excepted, of course."

"The Masterminer at Crom is another exception."

"Is he? That's where you grew up, of course. As Jiverny did on our island home. I'll expect you, then, will I?"

"Thank you, my lord, I'll come as soon as the Masterhealer deems me fit. We should, all of us, be leaving this lovely place very soon."

"Will you miss it?"

H'ric looked around the beautiful scenery.

"Benden Weyr is made out of an extinct volcano," he said. "It's black rock, stark lines, jagged edges, with no greenery, and the dark mouths of weyrs dotting it."

"And you love it," Lord Jamas said with a laugh. "Each to his own, Weyrleader, and it is given to us to love the place where we live, otherwise we would all be footloose wanderers on this world."

"Except during a Pass."

"Ah, even then, it could be done! With a nice handy cave for shelter, and clean sweet water, and some means of getting food, fishing or the like, you could survive Holdless. But of course we don't, because we are taught that life is not like that on this world, here we have the dragons to protect us, and to them we give honour."

He gave a half bow to Galanath and strode off, and H'ric watched him go.

_- he is nicer than some of them_

_- he isn't bothered with boundary disputes. No one comes and says - that field is too big - part of it is my field_

_- he has all the big island for a home_

_- would you like to live here?_

_- Therenth is to overfly Ista_

H'ric took that as a negative, and went back to finishing his sketch before the light changed and the shadows moved from his initial impression of the vista in front of him. He then folded up his sketch book and went in search of food and drink.

"You're looking much better," Master Perera said, coming to sit with him. "I'm going to close most of this hospital in the next few days, send everyone back to their own homes. The Weyrwoman is going to organise some dragonflights to take people back."

"Yes, that would be better than expecting them to walk. I can go, then?"

"Of course. I understand Lord Jamas asked you to visit?"

"Yes. I'll have a look through his records, and try to discern a pattern."

"What pattern are you seeking?"

"As to why the Pass seems to be delayed," H'ric replied. "I've been over and over the calculations of Turns past, but I can only think there has been some miscounting somewhere, and that we are not quite as far advanced as I once thought."

"Will that be better or worse?"

H'ric drained his drink and sighed out, shaking his head.

"I don't know, Master Perera. I'd like to think we have another few Turns to get more dragons bonded to their riders, because the junior queens seem - indifferent - to breeding. Which is very strange, because approaching a Pass, their fertility is triggered by the approach of the Red Star. It's big enough, in all conscience, to be seen by day and by night, but it's not approaching in the way the songs tell it."

"Songs," the Masterhealer murmured. "Why is all of Pern so tied up with these songs? Are there no records, anywhere, that are not based upon some song or another that a Harper has composed?"

"Songs are the way knowledge is dispersed," Grance said from the other side of the table where he had set down a jug of fresh fruit juice. "By learning and reiterating the songs, we keep the knowledge, Masterhealer."

"I wish I could believe it to be so, harper," Master Perera said with a sigh. "But I need more written information than a handy couplet can give me."

"Well, that one won't be solved easily! Are we singing tonight, Weyrleader? I've a new song composed, a farewell, I suppose you would call it, although I composed it not knowing we would be leaving in the next day or so."

"Yes, we'll hear it tonight, and I'll move on, Masterhealer, to Ista Hold?"

"Of course. Yes, I will be moving everyone out in the next day or so. Give us your song, then, Weyr harper! Has your Masterharper indicated he wants you returned, by the way?"

"Not as yet," Grance replied. "He sends me drum messages, requesting information, but I give him only the numbers and figures he wants, no speculations of my own."

"Like Yorus, you may never make Master under this man," H'ric warned, and Grance shrugged and smiled.

"I may not do so, but I have a place to live, and my arts to practice. I send back an occasional piece of music, but so far he's not acknowledged them."

They packed the meal away, and came out onto the veranda in the evening light, the last of the sunlight glinting across the bay and the cavorting dragons, diving and emerging in huge splashes of water.

Grance took up his usual position on the top step, leaning against the post, one leg down and supporting his gitar as he tuned it, staring out across the scene before starting to sing.

"_Oh Ista, Ista, in the sun_

_Soft sand beaches, and rivers run_

_I may sail on many a sea _

_These shores will always give a welcome to me. _

_Oh Ista, Ista, in the sun _

_Held by me as my children's land _

_All my days I will come to praise_

_Your mountain peaks and your shining sand._

_As morning breaks, dawn sisters high _

_I lift my eyes up to the sky_

_When the sun goes down in the western glow_

_I take my ease on the earth below._

_Oh Ista, Ista, in the sun_

_Held by me as my children's land_

_All my days I will come to praise _

_Your mountain peaks and your shining sand._

_I see people in fields around_

_Working the land and the fertile ground_

_I see the men at the waterside_

_Launching their boats at the surging tide_

_Oh Ista, Ista, in the sun _

_Held by me as my children's land _

_All my days I will come to praise _

_Your mountain peaks and your shining sand _

_I hope the day will never come_

_When I must leave this island home _

_Never to see its sun kissed shore_

_Or scent the breezes of days of yore._

_Oh Ista, Ista, in the sun_

_Held by me as my children's land_

_All my days I will come to praise _

_Your mountain peaks and your shining sand." _

H'ric was no singer, but he managed a creditable version of that song when he was dining at Ista's high table. He was applauded with vociferous cheers, and Jiverny smiled at him and squeezed his hand. They had been here for a day and a night, and H'ric had been up to inspect the Weyr with Galanath, examining the outward facing weyrs, the way the sun warmed the stone and prolonged the latent heat.

"Who's this Wingleader you're sending to me?" Lord Jamas asked above the clatter in the hall as the dining tables were cleared for dancing.

"W'rim, riding bronze Therenth. He's about ten or so Turns older than me, I think, a steady reliable man. He's been down here with his wing to learn the reference points."

"Amazing, that it should be so simple. I imagine a place, I put it in my mind, and - pfft - I am there!"

"I think you need a dragon, father, to aid you," Jiverny said dryly, and Lord Jamas laughed and agreed, and then there was dancing and singing, and during it H'ric and Jiverny slipped away to their own quarters, enquiring of their dragons if they were comfortable. Both agreed, from their comfortable ledge above the Hold, and H'ric peered out into the eastern sky.

"You can definitely see it's brighter," he said.

"Yes. But somehow - not nearer. I don't understand that. As if the sunlight was reflecting from its surface, somehow."

"Would that account for the redness of it? Thread is supposed to be grey, or silvery, when it reaches us. Perhaps - up there - it is red."

"That could be true. We'll look at the records tomorrow and see what there is to find out. Father says the Masterhealer has asked to come and consult with him as well, but I don't know what that's about."

"Perhaps just to check that none of that illness reached here?"

"It could be. That song of Grance's is still being sung below in the hall."

"He's better than Yorus," H'ric acknowledged as they came together in the bed, throwing the lightest of covers over themselves. "I thought Yorus was good, but his songs lack the - depth - the feeling - that Grance brings to his music."

"He wrote that piece for the children to sing, at Turnover Festival, and that was beautiful. I liked Yorus for himself, he was so open and cheerful, but Grance repays you if you are patient with him."

"Mm. Like L'rens."

He fell silent, staring into the darkness, and Jiverny put an arm over his chest and snuggled into his shoulder.

"I know," H'ric murmured. "Not the first, and certainly not the last, but it still hurts, and we will never find his body, because he never gave anyone the references for those far valleys."

"Unless Sicceth took him _between_ for all time when he departed. We can't tell that, nor should it be something we should fret over."

H'ric leaned and kissed her, and they came together with something of joy and something of grief, and above all the thankfulness of their own lives spared.


	38. Chapter 38

1.3 - 1.4.199

H'ric looked up from the ancient records he had been perusing, when someone entered the record room. He had copied down some references, but as he had feared, there was very little about the previous Passes and Intervals, beyond the settling of the land from unusual weather patterns at the end of every Pass, and the lists of harvests increasing as the tithes decreased in the Intervals. That had made depressing reading, but he was grateful Lord Jamas in this Interval sent them fresh fruit as part of his tithe.

"They told me you were holed up here, Weyrleader."

H'ric smiled as Perera put a tray of fruit juice and some savoury bread rolls onto the table and sat down, looking around at the records.

"Have you found anything worthwhile?" Perera continued.

"Not really. The tithes diminish, of course, and the dragons do not breed so often during an Interval. They keep time, so to speak, until the pulse of the returning Red Star alerts them."

"The pulse of the Red Star. We know the dragons were engineered by the ancients at the beginning of the First Pass, but you imply they're connected to the Red Star?"

"Only because they know it's in the east, and they're supposed to breed in tune with it."

"And in tune with the Weyrleader and his Weyrwoman," Perera said. "I've asked Jiverny and her mother to attend us, with your permission?"

"Of course. Is there something about that recent illness we should know?"

Perera shook his head. "That's gone and done with, Weyrleader, there have been no reports of fresh outbreaks for several days, although all the healers along the coasts of Bitra, Benden and Nerat are on the alert for it still. No, this is to do with your concern at the breeding of dragons."

Both men stood up as Jiverny and her mother the Lady Holder Iveris entered the room.

"Is this an appropriate place, Masterhealer, to speak to us?" Lady Iveris asked, looking around at the clutter of scrolls and hides. H'ric gathered a pile together and laid them on a chair to one side, and the Lady Holder sat down, still looking suspicious and put out. Jiverny poured drinks for them and glanced at H'ric's notes, grimacing at their paucity.

"I would like to ask you, Lady Iveris, in what relation you stand to your Lord Holder?"

"What relation? I'm his second cousin - we share a great grandfather."

"I see. May I ask if the Lord Holder of Ista usually weds inside his own family?"

Lady Iveris stared at him, frowning, and then demanded a piece of parchment and a pen, and began making rapid notes of initials joined by lines. Perera watched her as Jiverny read through H'ric's notes.

"Yes," the Lady Holder said at last. "Yes, in the last five generations at least, the Lord Holder has married his own relation. Why? Is it important?"

"May I ask how many living children you have borne?"

Lady Iveris drew in a sharp hurting breath. "Three," she said at last. "Three living, and six died in infancy. My mother was the same."

"I suspect also, that across the Lord Holder's line, the same is true," Perera said gently. "What fosterlings the Lord Holder takes, he does not keep, he sends them back to their own Holds, I believe?"

"It's always been said the Island cannot sustain a large population," Jiverny said.

"I've been told that, as well," Perera replied. "But having a large population on the Island itself, has nothing to do with ameliorating the blood lines and preventing inbreeding."

"Is that what you believe is happening here?" Lady Iveris demanded. "My son - who should be Lord Holder in time - has no children. He married his first cousin."

Perera winced and looked away.

"Don't you take any fosterlings?" H'ric asked. "I thought it was common practice for the Lord Holders to farm out their surplus offspring, so to speak, and have them form good alliances amongst other Holds?"

"That's a fairly blunt and impolite way of putting it," Jiverny admitted, as her mother looked too shocked to speak. "But why should Ista be so different? Mother?"

"Tradition, I suppose, and the fear of overpopulation. It's always been small - the Weyr was small as well. Even at the end of the last Pass, when it was at full strength, it only had about 300 dragons, under D'ram and his bronze, Tiroth. His Weyrwoman was Fanna, the rider of gold Miranth. They went - wherever they went."

"Probably with much rejoicing from the Lord Holder at the time that he could dispense with most of his tithe," Jiverny said ruefully, and her mother did not protest that idea.

"I can't send you 300 dragons to protect Ista and the area those riders covered back then, my lady," H'ric said.

"I know that, Weyrleader, and we are prepared to send out ground crews - with stone and rock and sand we should make less of a target than those lush lands of Telgar, for instance!"

The others nodded an acknowledgement of this, and Lady Iveris looked again at Perera.

"I understand your concern with the Lord Holder's lineage, Masterhealer. But why does it concern my daughter, who is a Weyrwoman now? In fact, the only Weyrwoman!"

"You have one child, Weyrwoman?"

"Yes. In all the time since Haveneth's first mating flight, I conceived no children until H'ric took on the leadership three Turns ago."

"You are absolutely sure of that?"

"I am sure. I took all the usual remedies woman take, but nothing happened."

H'ric glanced at her, wondering if Mima knew about those remedies, and if she had advised the Weyrwoman to stop fretting and grieving over her inability to have children.

"And your son is healthy and fit?" Perera asked.

"Overly so," Jiverny said with a fond smile. "You know he's fostered in the Lower Caverns, but he does seem to be as bright and forward as any other child three Turns old."

"And you had no others."

"If a dragon rider goes b_etween_ with any frequency, that can abort a child," H'ric said. "It's a well known fact in the Weyr."

"And have you done so, Jiverny?"

She shook her head. "There never seemed any need. I rode the senior gold dragon, so I had the care of the Weyr. Before H'ric became Weyrleader I'd not been out of the Weyr for at least three Turns."

H'ric frowned at her. "That's right," he said. "I remember that - I did ask R'tin about it - he said there was no need for you to go out and about - with the care of the Weyr and the junior golds - three Turns is a very long time, lady mine, to be immured in the Weyr!"

She smiled at him and took his clenched fist and gently straightened his fingers, laced hers with them.

"Yes, I know. I suppose I never noticed the time passing. Haveneth rose twice in those three Turns, Masterhealer, and to R'tin's dragon Teneth each time, and produced ten eggs each time. There was never a hint either then, or in any other times we slept together, that I might have a child. But it could have been him! Different partners, different - "

H'ric had looked away, and Jiverny stopped short and looked hard at him.

"He had children in the weyr?"

"Um - at least two, lady mine. I think the Masterhealer, though, is trying to say that your terribly inbred line is what stopped you conceiving a child all those Turns."

"Yes, that is what I am saying. And I am saying further - it is because of your very infertility that the clutches at Benden have been small."

Lady Iveris looked at him in astonishment and then at H'ric and Jiverny.

"Is that truth, Masterhealer? What a dreadful thing to think, that what we have done in our generations on Ista could impact on the well-being of the Weyr and the Pass to come!"

"I could step down," Jiverny said. "I could step down, and one of the junior gold riders could become Weyrwoman and produce the vast clutches you want, Weyrleader."

"Haveneth has averaged twenty eggs in each clutch we have been together," H'ric said, turning his hand to hold hers more firmly. "In an Interval, that's respectable, and perhaps even profligate. None of the junior golds have equalled that, and indeed have risen only once each in the three Turns I've been Weyrleader."

Perera nodded. "I am sorry, Jiverny, to have put it that way when I could have been gentler in the saying. But I do truly believe your fertility impacts on your dragon."

Jiverny looked abstracted suddenly, and H'ric felt a chattering in his mind that he associated with dragon talk. Jiverny closed her eyes and shook her head, tears starting to trickle down her cheeks.

"Haveneth said she didn't know about all this," she whispered. "She said she was merely - reluctant - to blood her kill and rise very often. Oh - H'ric - what are we going to do?"


	39. Chapter 39

This is a subject I've pondered before - as a woman approaches menopause so her gold dragon would probably become less fertile as well - but what would happen if the queen rider wasn't very fertile in herself?

1.3 - 1.4.199

The long silence in the record room was broken only by Jiverny's suppressed sobs. The others around the table seemed unable to formulate any speech at all. They all jumped when someone rapped on the door and entered, and the Lord Holder Jamas came in.

"Secret conferences, Masterhealer, Weyrleader? Why is my daughter upset? Eh?"

"Sit down, my lord," Perera said, and although his voice was quiet, Lord Jamas sat down and put an arm around his daughter, glaring at the others.

"I was dozing, and suddenly I had this dream of all of you, and it wasn't at all a nice dream! I asked where you were, and I was told you'd come here without anyone else. What's going on, Masterhealer?"

"You may remember, Lord Holder, that I have been working on the question of moving fosterlings around the various Holds in the last ten Turns?"

"I can't keep any fosterlings here to overpopulate the Island," he replied at once. "It isn't done. Never been done. Can't be done."

"It must be done," Perera said forcefully. "You must do it, or risk your line going either extinct or descending into inbred imbecility."

Lord Jamas stared at him in astonishment and anger, and Lady Iveris pushed over the notes she had made of the family tree. He studied it and then looked at the Masterhealer.

"You're saying we've gone wrong, that we've read the situation wrong?"

"Yes, my lord, that is what I'm saying."

"How does it affect my daughter? She isn't married to her own cousin! In fact I'd go so far as to say that the Weyrleaders she's been with are as far removed from her bloodline as it's possible to get! I don't know about that R'tin fellow, but H'ric here is a miner's boy from Crom! No offence meant, Weyrleader."

"And none taken, my lord, because as you know and appreciate from your daughter's situation, once a rider has Impressed a dragon, there is no further talk of their origins."

"Sensible practice and I approve it. So why is my daughter crying?"

Perera glanced at the others for permission and outlined his theory. Lord Jamas frowned at him as Jiverny stopped crying and dried her eyes, and took a sip of fruit juice, H'ric still holding her other hand.

"Let me understand this. My daughter may be infertile - one child in all her child-bearing years, and that one was a danger to her, she wrote and told us? Perhaps she isn't built to bear children, Masterhealer, some women aren't, hips too narrow, body too small, things like that. It happens. And then there's the question of the right partner."

"Yes, I have considered all of that, my lord. I still contend her infertility affects her dragon."

Lord Jamas looked at H'ric.

"A hundred or so dragons hatched in the three Turns since you took over, they tell me? A decent return, given the Weyr is underpopulated. If the Pass happens, you'll need more. Is that the problem? Someone else should provide the dragons?"

"Historically, my lord, the senior gold provides the majority of the eggs, when mated by the Weyrleader's bronze," H'ric said carefully. "There are four junior golds at Benden able to produce eggs, and three immature golds that will not mate for three or four Turns perhaps."

Lord Jamas tapped his fingers on the table in the rhythm of the song Grance has provided. Frowning, he looked at the notes of his own line, and he was evidently thinking about H'ric's statement.

"The senior gold dragon belongs to the Weyrwoman, who in effect controls the Weyr," he said at last. "Let's think of this as if it were a Hold. I'm the Lord Holder, I have a Lady Holder and my children should inherit if all goes well. But I have other major Holders on the Island, and they seem to breed like wherries. The situation is the same at your Weyr. You and my daughter hold the highest office. Provided you don't stand down, either of you, you'll continue to do so lifelong. If your dragon's clutches are inferior, daughter, that doesn't mean the Weyr is in danger of going extinct! After all, all those golds you speak of are the daughters of your gold, are they not? They have to be, in this Interval, because we only have one Weyr."

"But if my gold can't produce a significant number of eggs, father, should I stand down and let one of the junior gold riders try to be Weyrwoman?"

"Whyever would you do that?" he asked in astonishment. "Haven't you been listening to me, daughter? So long as your senior gold is flown and mated, you remain Weyrwoman. The size of the clutch is immaterial to that fact, as is, pardon my bluntness, H'ric, the person of the Weyrleader. No, no, I see no problem here at all. I appreciate your research, Masterhealer, and I'll act on it in my Hold, and I'll hope that it doesn't impact on the Weyr's strength during the coming Pass. Good red meat, and plenty of it, daughter, that's what will make your dragon rise! Make sure you get a goodly tithe of those herds Keroon produces."

Jiverny flung her arms around him and he patted her back awkwardly, looking somehow embarrassed but proud. H'ric took a long breath he had not been aware he had been holding, and Perera folded up his notes.

"I felt I had to bring this out into the open, Weyrleader," he said.

"And I'm pleased you have, Masterhealer, because it will give us pointers in the Weyr as well as a lever to the Lord Holders, to send riders out on Search. We have a large population in the Weyr and a lot of them aren't related, but of course every dragonrider would like his son to follow him and Impress a dragon. Sending out on Search, as well as gathering in the most Impressionable candidates, widens our bloodlines significantly."

"And not every Candidate will Impress," Lady Iveris put in. "I asked the question when Jiverny Impressed - what happens to those other ten girls. I was told they would stand again if another gold was hatched, but that there would be a place in the Weyr for them if they wanted to stay. I have to say - I think most of them did?"

Jiverny had straightened herself and mastered her emotions, and now nodded at her mother.

"They did stay. Two Impressed at later clutches, but the others are valued members of the Weyr, and have their own families now, and some of their sons will be dragonriders. Searching brings in the people most suited to the Weyr, and gives the dragons a better choice."

"Sensible," Lord Jamas said as he stood up. "Well, I'm glad to have had your advice, Masterhealer, and I'll make sure it's written down, as I know you'd want it, and not just put into a song. I know your aversion to singing our history, but it's the best choice we have at this time - until someone sits down and actually works out an imperishable surface like the very earliest records were written on - I doubt if we have the means to manufacture that."

"You could hew it into stone, my lord, and not find me objecting," Perera said acidly as he also stood up and bowed to the others. "I am sorry for causing you distress, Weyrwoman, Weyrleader, but I felt it had to be said."

"And we have the knowledge now," H'ric said with a smile he did not feel. "I'll make sure Sharama has the records updated."

Lady Iveris nodded.

"That would be good. And you'll be away back to those northern wastelands very shortly, I don't doubt! I've some presents of cloth and pretties for you, daughter, we'll go and choose them - and some little things for that grandson of mine."

H'ric watched them all leave, and sat staring at the mess of scrolls and hides, his own researches. With a violent gesture, he swept it all to the floor, and crumpled his notes and threw them into a corner.

"And how dare you leave us with no knowledge at all, to muddle on, to get ourselves into the kind of mess that must be making the first settlers spin in their graves!" he screamed into the silence of the room.


	40. Chapter 40

Thank you for all the reviews. I hope this chapter makes up for making the Weyrwoman cry!

20.12.199

"Chandra! I'd hoped you'd get here in time!"

H'ric smiled broadly as the trader came through the entrance to the Weyr bowl.

"Weyrleader! We made good time after we picked up your drum message. I left the most part of the wagons to carry on, but brought the immediate family here."

"You could have messaged me? I'd have sent a dragon or two?"

Chandra shook his head, his smile fading.

"We're not in good enough ranking with the Holders for them to allow that, I'm afraid. I'd have had to pay out a lot of marks for such a message, and I knew I could make it in time, once I had the date."

"Pay for a drum message? Is that usual?"

Chandra shrugged as he gestured to the rest of his immediate family, his wife and sons and daughters, and H'ric hurried to greet them.

"There's a lot of things changing in this world," Chandra's wife said bluntly. "Traders are mostly always welcome, but not if they try and send messages. The Lord Holders wouldn't trust us not to send a coded message that would set them up for a higher price."

"That sounds like the sort of world this is turning into," H'ric agreed bitterly, as he led them to the caverns to claim their rooms and to get washed and changed.

He marked off his list; Dawan was standing at this Hatching, and he had sent in good time for the boy's family. He had high hopes the boy would fix on a bronze, because the way he had soaked up the learning had been little short of astonishing. Together with Cosin, C'lin's son by his weyrmate Sisla, they had formed the apex of their class. The beginnings of a new Wing, H'ric thought contentedly as he hurried to greet others coming to this late Hatching just before Turn's End. The mating had been satisfactory, Galanath had outflown Fineth by a clear margin, and if only ten eggs had resulted, the Weyr still considered the two dominant dragons to be a remarkably well matched pair.

H'ric huffed out his breath, seeing it dissipate on the cold wind skirling around the Bowl. The winter tithe had come in from Benden, Bitra and Lemos, and there had been some welcome additions from a couple of the other Lord Holders, fruit that had been bottled and preserved, vegetables turned into Sisla's particularly fine chutney.

"Grance! Do you have some new songs for us tonight?" H'ric called to the harper, and he turned and waved.

"Yes, I've a couple, and some new dance tunes as well. Let's hope we don't get snowed in, Weyrleader, those clouds look menacing."

H'ric looked up into the north east, and shivered at the size of the storm clouds on the horizon.

"They might not reach us for a day or two, and maybe even dissipate in the further mountains," he said. "But there's snow on the way, no doubt of it."

He knew both of them had automatically thought of L'rens and his love of the far northern valleys with their endless eternal snows, but neither of them mentioned it. After his illness, and recovery, H'ric had tried to shake off the constant feeling of oppression about the future, and planned the Weyr on a more day to day spontaneous basis. Sending the Wings out to their designated places had helped, because the dragons had hunted their own food for the most part, allowing more meat to be salted and cured for the winter in the Weyr.

"More people! Oh, it's the Lady Irilia and Lavand's family - I'll do the honours, Weyrleader!"

H'ric watched with some amusement as the harper hurried across to the daughter of Bitra's Lord Holder. Grance had filled out in the months he had been at the Weyr, doing as much exercise as the weyrlings and the riders, helping with the hay harvest in the valleys north of Telgar, but not neglecting his teaching and composing duties. H'ric knew he had visited the Lady Irilia a few times, and they certainly seemed to have plenty to talk about. Perhaps the lady would be returning to the Weyr in the near future, H'ric thought, and turned to greet more guests.

When he slipped into his place beside Jiverny, H'ric was smiling, and she took his hand and smiled back.

"Where were you?" she asked in a low voice, although there was plenty of conversation in the ground to mask her question.

"Oh, just calming Jerenic with a story and a little game. He's been restless - he seems to be able to pick up on feelings much more than a lot of the other children. He's calm enough now, playing a complicated counting game with Booty."

Jiverny laughed. Her mother had made a cloth toy in the shape of a bronze dragon, and the much-loved, much-bedraggled toy accompanied Jerenic most of the time. He had insisted on a thank you letter, which Jiverny had written, and Jerenic had put a lot of wobbly crosses on the bottom of it.

"We'll have to watch that sensitivity, make sure it isn't crushed," she murmured, and then they turned their attention to the Hatching Ground where the dragons had begun their bone-aching hum as the first of the eggs began to rock wildly. There were twenty boys grouped near them, ranging from Dawan as the youngest to Cosin as the eldest, but all of them had responded well to teaching, and getting to know the Hatching Grounds, paying their respects to Haveneth as she had guarded the eggs.

"Look there! A brown - oh yes - Limol has him!"

"His name is Slendith!" the boy shouted, and the riders cheered as the newly pairing was helped away from the mayhem on the ground as the other eggs began to crack, and the dragonets spilled from them, damp and new, soft skinned, unsteady on their feet, a couple tripping themselves up.

"Who has that bronze? Is it Dawan?"

"No, there's another bronze - Fafnel has him - there's Dawan - there's an egg breaking near him - "

H'ric joined the cheer from Chandra and his family as Dawan Impressed, shouting his bronze dragon's name as Marath.

"There's a dragonet facing the wrong way!" Jiverny said tensely. "Look - that brown - it's turned itself completely around - someone go and help it - "

"Grance is there," H'ric replied. "What's he doing on the lower levels? Oh yes, he was sitting with Irilia - good man - oh! Oh - L'rens - you clever, clever man - "

He sat back, aware of his voice choking on sobs, because Grance had lifted a face radiant with love and awe.

"His name is Soromoth!"

H'ric walked the tables that night at the feast, naming the new dragonriders.

"G'ance, rider of brown Soromoth, Weyrharper of Benden."

People cheered, and H'ric gave the harper the sign of equals.

"I hope you can still manage to play and sing," H'ric said with a grin, and G'ance smiled back.

"Oh, I think I can do that, Weyrleader!"

He was sitting with D'wan and C'sin, the pair having taken him in with them, despite the huge disparity of ages between all three.

"My pa would have been proudest," C'sin said. "Although your pa looks ready to burst with pride, D'wan."

"Yep. Will you write to your folks, G'ance?"

"Yes, I'll do that soon. Looks like I have to sing for my supper first!"

He took his gitar to the small stage and acknowledged the good wishes, his glance going to Irilia who was smiling proudly at him.

"I wrote a few songs for the new riders," G'ance said, plucking a chord. "And a couple of new dance tunes, because Weyr folk are insatiable dancers!"

He paused at the burst of laughter and applause, and struck another chord.

"But first - those who are not Weyr-bred might not understand the absolute depth, the absolutely insoluble bond of a dragon and its rider. So this is for them - and for me - and for L'rens who told me I could do anything if I faced it and refused to give in to my fear."

The room fell silent as G'ance played an opening sequence, and then began to sing.

"_You are my heartfriend, O soul of my soul,_

_Nowhere is fine to me, save where you are._

_You my first thought in the day and the night,_

_Waking and sleeping, you are my delight._

_You are my wisdom, you are my true soul,_

_You ever with me, and I with you always._

_You are my great treasure, and I your true friend,_

_Both of one mind now, our barriers transcend._

_Riches I need not, nor men's earthly praise,_

_You are my soul's birthright, now and always._

_You, and you only, the first in my heart,_

_O heartfriend of dragonkind, my treasure you are._

_You are my bright charger, my weapon of force,_

_You are my whole armour, my trust and my hope._

_The path we have chosen, the battles we fight,_

_O raise us to greatness, ever onwards to right ._

_Skies we will cleave through, to fight to the end,_

_O grant us great joys after victory is won!_

_Great heart of my own heart, whatever become,_

_You are my true heartfriend, and we will be one._"


	41. Chapter 41

We begin to reach the realisation of what is happening. I do feel there should have been some better way of keeping records, but I am restricted by canon, and haven't "invented" anything extra, I hope.

1.2.200

"Counting!"

H'ric sat bolt upright, staring around the weyr. He had been dreaming of something, with counting in it, something he had heard, a song, or perhaps a chant, and he knew it was important.

Jiverny jumped back and nearly spilled the tray of _klah_ and sweet rolls she had brought into the weyr.

"Goodness! Were you dreaming, H'ric?"

He blinked up at her, and then around at the weyr.

"You let me sleep in? When did you arrive home?"

"About an hour ago. You were still sleeping, and they told me you'd been drinking and carousing for the last three days at Benden Hold."

H'ric laughed and winced. Jiverny had been to Ista, where her mother had been ill, not with any fever, but some sort of insect bite that had festered.

"The Lord Holder of Benden sent his kind regards to you," H'ric continued as Jiverny set down the tray and poured two mugs of _klah_.

"As did the Lord Holder of Ista to you," she replied smartly, smiling at him.

"Yes. Counting. There's a counting song the children use - it's been on my mind, all mixed up with the passage of the Red Star and its wrong position."

"It's still visible."

"But unless there's been earth movements all over Pern that moved the Star Stones out of position in each Weyr, something's wrong with our counting."

"Father sent watchers up to Ista Weyr, and they marked down the position, as your man did as well," Jiverny replied. "It's really strange, H'ric, and I worry we've missed something in looking through the old records of the last Pass."

"I think the answer is further back than that. I'm not going to push at it. Something stirred last night, and I want to leave it for a while."

"No one's going anywhere for a while anyway," Jiverny replied. "We had snowfall in the early hours of the morning, I'm told, and there's ice and snow everywhere. Dangerous for man and beast."

"I was planning to go down to the beastholds and help out."

"That would be nice and warm," she agreed. "I've brought fresh fruit from Ista, so there's a generous piece for everyone with their morning cereal."

"And for me?"

She laughed and agreed, and slipped into the bed with him as they finished the _klah_ and talked about things other than the one thing on their minds, the erratic behaviour of the Red Star.

H'ric paused at the children's classrooms later in the day to listen to them learning their numbers. Jerenic had found him and was walking with him, and now looked up at his father.

"Unto free," he said. "Dinner winner berit tru."

"Who said that?"

"D'wan."

H'ric picked the boy up and headed for the weyrling barracks. "Let's go and find D'wan."

"Ganz! See Ganz!"

H'ric had already seen the harper hurrying towards him, waving a piece of parchment.

"Weyrleader! I think I've found some of the answer!"

"And Jerenic's given me another clue. Come with me."

They crossed the bowl with Jerenic trying to catch the snowflakes whirling out of the grey skies.

"How was the Masterharper?" H'ric asked G'ance, who had been visiting his family and taken the chance to go to the Harperhall.

"As ever," G'ance replied. "I've brought back a couple of new songs, but they seem overly fluffy and romantic to me, but some of the riders might like them, and the tunes are at least danceable."

"And your family?"

"Pleased to see me. I was able to do some work for my father, shifting some heavy lumber brought down in the winter storms. F'sil and Caranth helped out and took some new reference points as well."

"That's good."

They reached the warmth of the weyrling barracks and K'mar, promoted to Weyrlingmaster, greeted them.

"D'wan? They're in the hall, I think, playing some sort of game of tag. It's too dangerous for them to be running around in the bowl."

"They can still knock themselves silly in the hall," H'ric said.

K'mar shrugged. "It's a danger every rider faces, and I grant you some young dragons can be panicked all too easily by damage to their rider. Those are traits I watch out for, I can assure you of that."

H'ric nodded. "I well remember the lectures, K'mar, in my time."

They came into the hall to find D'wan who came over at K'mar's call, and joined them in a smaller room.

"Counting games? Yes, there's a counting game the trader kids use, the counting itself is very old, pa always reckoned it came from some old language from the first settlers. It doesn't make any sense now, but it's just part of the game."

"Dinner winner berit tru," Jerenic said, and D'wan laughed.

"That's the one, little 'un. It talks about a queen as well, but there've never been any kings and queens on Pern, have there?"

"Only the gold dragons," H'ric agreed. "C'lin reckoned every rider should know all the golds going back to Faranth, and he could recite a good few of them. I only remembered a few names, because they had a rhythm, Orolith, Pamalith, Isimith."

"Isimith! Was there a gold called Isimith?"

H'ric nodded. "Way back! C'lin reckoned that was - oh - almost back to the beginning. He said Isimith lived too long after the end of a Pass. I never understood that, because a dragon only lives to the end of its rider's life."

"Unless there are eggs hardening," K'mar put in. "Why would you know the name, D'wan? You were never around dragons before."

"It's in the game," D'wan said. "It must be the same name, although it's been distorted over time. A lot of time."

"What's the rhyme?" G'ance asked, and D'wan flushed up but chanted aloud.

"_In the Turn Queen Isima died,_

_The Holders said the riders lied, dinahwin, bayret, truer_

_In the Turn Queen Isima died,_

_The Red Star passed a Starstone wide, karharah, cooeejer, shesher_

_In the Turn Queen Isima died,_

_No Thread came, it turned aside, shockter, uckter, nayner_

_In the Turn Queen Isima died,_

_Four hundred Turns and fifty beside, jayner."_

H'ric stared blankly at him.

"It's nonsense," he said. "What sort of words are those? A Starstone wide - four hundred and fifty Turns?"

"The end words, the nonsense words, count to ten," G'ance said at once. "But take them off, Weyrleader, take them off and listen to the song!"

"A Starstone wide - yes, the Red Star is off by about that width."

G'ance waved his parchment.

"And listen to something I found at Harperhall - the Archivist was throwing out old stuff and I asked for some not too heavily used parchment. He gave me this block of parchment, telling me it was just rough copies people had made of older stuff before it was copied into the archives. A lot of it's been scraped back and reused, but I could distinguish this - _we are going as they say Isimith went, too long - something something - an interval - _I think this is part of the records they found at Fort Weyr."

"Too long an Interval - a Long Interval!" H'ric shouted. "Thread isn't coming!"

"Was there a Long Interval, before?" D'wan asked. "Is it in the records?"

"It's in the records at Harper Hall, and at Healer Hall, because I asked there as well," G'ance said. "They'd noted when there was plague, at Healer Hall, but they also noted that at the end of the Fourth Pass, the Red Star passed us by."

"Thread's not coming?" D'wan asked, in a bewildered voice.

a

"Not yet," K'mar reminded him. "It did come again, even if the people thought it was gone forever! The Lord Holders and Craftmasters will tell you this time it has gone forever because the riders took their dragons - wherever they went - but the Red Star is still in our skies, Weyrleader, and it will come around again, as sure as Faranth was hatched from the egg in the First Pass!"

"It would explain the way the Red Star isn't getting any bigger, and now seems to be moving to one side, back to wherever it comes from," H'ric said. "I need to have another look at the records."

"We need to try and put them in some sort of date order," G'ance said as they came into the Records room, Jiverny following them.

"What's the excitement? Have you found something new?"

H'ric rapidly recited D'wan's verse. "We think this must be the middle of a Long Interval - that there's another two hundred or so Turns before Thread comes again."

"A Long Interval? Yes, it would explain why the queens aren't rising as frequently as you'd expect. And perhaps why they aren't bothered about it. But - the empty Weyrs - they wouldn't have known - would they?"

G'ance read his few words again, and shook his head.

"This does seem to imply they knew they were at the beginning of a Long Interval. But with the Red Star fading, it wouldn't be obvious. Something else happened to tell them, to alert them which allowed them to go. What that was, I can't imagine, and they didn't - of course - leave us any record of it."

"But the Benden Weyrleader knew of it," Jiverny said at once. "One man was told, and he carried it through to his death, and passed it on, and R'tin would have passed it on in his turn. Although by now - he would by now have told everyone it was a Long Interval - wouldn't he?"

"Unless the Weyrleader wasn't told that detail," H'ric said. "Unless all the Benden Weyrleader back then knew was that the dragons had gone - and that they'd return."

"I suggest you leave a very stiff note, Weyrleader, for the future Weyrleaders, to keep safe until the other dragons do return," G'ance said dryly as he spread out the records of the queen dragons and their broods. "These aren't complete, but here - recorded at the end of the Fourth Pass - _Isimith laid the last and biggest of her clutches and never any more_."

"Was Isimith a Benden gold?" D'wan asked. "Here's the others you remember, Weyrleader, at the same time, Orolith of Fort, Pamalith of Igen. Someone's scratched a couplet in the margin here. _The biggest and the best, then dwindled with the rest_."

"The Fourth Pass was delayed and now the Eighth as well. I wonder if that's a pattern that'll be repeated?"

"So we have another two hundred or two hundred and fifty Turns at the most, before Thread, and hopefully the missing dragons, return," Jiverny said into the silence as the men studied the records. "Who's going to tell the conclave?"

H'ric looked across at her.

"We'll both have to go," he said quietly. "This is too important not to tell them, but it's not going to be pleasant."


	42. Chapter 42

And so farewell. Whatever else he faces, H'ric does not face Thread! Thank you, all of you, for following this little side-excursion into the worlds of AM, and for your encouragement to me as a writer.

10.2.200

"Weywoman Jiverny. This is very pleasant, to see you again."

Jiverny nodded to the Lord Holder of Tillek.

"And you, my lord. How is Yorus?"

Lord Boros laughed freely. "Oh, that man! The sly little digs he gets in on us. Were you upset he had to leave you?"

"We were, of course, because as you say, he could fit a rhyme to any situation. Our present Harper is now a dragon rider, he Impressed a brown."

"Is that usual?" Lord Borus asked as he took a glass of wine. Jiverny refused a glass, but asked for fruitjuice instead.

"There are records of harpers impressing," Jiverny told the Lord Holder. "A harper by his very nature must be empathic to the feelings of others, and that's what a dragon looks for on Search."

"So he won't make Master?"

"Nor will Yorus, my lord," Jiverny replied bluntly, and Lord Borus slid a glance around the room and located the Masterharper who was holding forth to an audience.

"I take your meaning, my lady. They do say there's no significant new songs coming out of Harper Hall in that one's tenure. But we're not here to discuss him, but to look ahead, set tithes, discuss alliances. Why are you here?"

Jiverny nodded an acknowledgement of his interest.

"The Weyrleader and I have a right to be here, in a meeting of equals, my lord, and we do have some information to impart to all the Lord Holders and Craftmasters."

"I've been grateful to those riders who patrol around me," Lord Borus said. "They located and rescued the crew of a fishing boat, managed to drag the boat to safety as well, which saved the men's livelihood."

"And we're grateful for your tithe," Jiverny replied, not mentioning that Tillek had been one of the most vociferous in cutting the amount needed to be sent. Lord Borus looked uncomfortable, and Jiverny moved away from him to join H'ric who was talking the Masterminer.

"Master Genit has been telling me they've located a new coal seam," H'ric told her. "I've promised M'dor and his wing will go and help with the heavy lifting as they set the adit."

"Your predecessors never offered any help anywhere," Masterminer Genit said bluntly.

"And I cannot make promises for anyone in the future," H'ric said at once. "A Weyrleader is autonomous, and none of his decisions are binding on his following Weyrleaders."

"Makes sense. No, I don't want any wine! I want a clear head for these negotiations. Fort is too keen to get everyone sozzled before we begin."

They moved into the conference room, deep in the smoothly cut rooms of Fort Hold, with candles and lamps to provide light. It was already uncomfortably warm, and H'ric discreetly opened his collar to cool himself as he moved to his place.

"Are we all here?" Lord Riasalt asked as his secretary took the names of those present and waited to begin making notes.

"As many as care to be here," Lord Cantin of Telgar said irritably. "This is a dreadful part of the Turn to be calling conclave."

"You had no problem getting here," Lord Riasalt said spitefully. "The Weyrleader did you a favour by bringing you himself."

"As did many of his dragon riders to bring others, Lord Holders and Craftmasters alike," Lord Cantin replied at once. "Don't be saying it like that, Fort, as if I am more favoured than others by the Weyrleader. By the very nature of the way the Weyrs and Holds are set up, the Weyrleader looks first to Benden before the rest of Pern."

"Very well. The Lord Holder of Bitra has a question to put."

"I want to know what you have done with my daughter, Benden! I assumed she would be returned to me in due course - I've a marriage arranged for her."

H'ric stared at the man in amazement. Lord Runanan stood up.

"As far as I am aware, Bitra, the lady is safe and well, and studying household management somewhere congenial to her needs and desires. I saw her and spoke to her at the Impression at Benden Weyr last Turn, and she gave me no indication she needed to return to Bitra."

"She is under age!"

"She is 18," Jiverny replied. "That's an age at which she makes her own decisions, my lord, and she's settled very happily with the family that took her in."

Lord Viral glared at both of them, glanced at Lord Runanan and sat down again.

"I'll speak to you in private," he muttered, and H'ric sent a thought to Galanath to warn the Weyr to be on guard against anyone trying to snatch the lady Irilia.

"Next, Ruatha, you want to complain about intrusion on your higher meadows?"

H'ric, over the next few hours, wondered how these men could be so interested in such tiny matters, the movement of a boundary stone, the interruption to the flow of a river, even the colour of cloth the Weavers were allowed to make.

"You have a concern to share with us?" Lord Riasalt said at last, turning to H'ric almost as an afterthought. H'ric stood up and glanced around the men, some of whom appeared on the verge of dozing off in the heated room.

"I do. I have here some illustrations of the way the Red Star has been appearing in the night sky in the last five Turns."

"Too close for my comfort," someone muttered and someone else nodded as the notes H'ric had had drawn up were passed around and studied.

"Is this just at Benden Weyr, or all over Pern?" Lord Cantin asked. "I know you have observers at Telgar Weyr."

"I have observers at every Weyr, my lord, to chart the progress of our old enemy. As you can see, it's not fulfilling the words of the teaching ballad - _The Finger points, at an eye blood-red. Alert the Weyrs to sear the Thread._ Weyrs in the past have relied on that, and seen the Red Star fill the Eyestone. This is not happening, and by our calculations, in five Turns the Red Star will be so far out of alignment it will fall out of orbit."

"So there is no more Thread!" Lord Riasalt said at once. "That's what the Lord Holders have always suspected, but you have consistently denied it!"

"For the moment, the Red Star is not a menace to Pern," H'ric agreed. "You'll see from the notes, all of you, the last time a Long Interval happened was at the end of the Fourth Pass, but Thread returned four more times, up to our present Interval."

"You think it will come again in two hundred Turns?" Lord Cantin asked shrewdly. "That's a fairly long stretch of time."

"Does that mean you no longer require any tithe?" Lord Viral asked. "In two hundred Turns your Weyrfolk can turn to farming and animal husbandry, can they not? Or tie themselves in to any number of Crafts that could do with beasts of burden."

H'ric stared at him in disbelief. Jiverny was clenching and unclenching her hands, and Lord Jamas cleared his throat.

"That's no way to speak about the Dragons of Pern, my lord," he said. "We owe them and their predecessors many times over - "

"Oh, in the past! Yes, in the past we had to be grateful! But there's no more Thread now, and there may not be in the future."

"It's always returned before," Jiverny said. "When men first landed, they had the misfortune to land at the end of an Interval, from all the records we've been able to discern. They wouldn't have seen the devastation of Thread-scored land - in two hundred Turns most of the land would have recovered and regenerated. Men endured Four Passes, before the first Long Interval."

"I've heard this piece of doggerel before," Lord Miccel of Ruatha put in, tapping D'wan rhyme. "It's trader stuff, isn't it? But given that most of our history is songs, this shouldn't be discounted. The Red Star is going wide, and we might well have two hundred Turns of settled life before it comes back to haunt us."

"That's a long stretch," Lord Jamas said. "How will the dragons cope, Weyrleader? You've barely 300 at Benden as it is - and I for one have had sleepless nights worrying about how you'd protect everyone. But you've two hundred Turns - how long does a dragon live?"

"As long as its rider," H'ric replied at once. "In general, eighty Turns would be usual."

A mutter of surprise went around, and Lord Jamas shook his head.

"That's a longer life than most men, Weyrleader. So - four generations ahead of those of us seated in this room - you think Thread will return?"

"Yes I do."

"And how many new dragons will be hatched in those two hundred Turns?"

"I can't answer that, my lord. I'd expect numbers to remain at the 300 mark, because a smaller population risks too much instability. Benden can support double that number - "

He broke off because several Lord Holders were scowling and scribbling numbers and notes.

"I will ask that tithing levels remain viable," H'ric continued. "Lord Viral may say we can farm, but there's very little free land, in truth. Nothing will grow on the slopes of Benden Weyr, I can assure you of that, and there're wild forests to the north of us, it's not farmland."

"You'll still want tithe of my herds, then?" Lord Cincil of Keroon asked sourly.

"We will be most grateful, my lord."

"Been thinking about it, and I plan to breed more specifically for meat," the Lord Holder continued gloomily. "It'll all go to naught if your dragons raid indiscriminately in my lands."

"We only hunt on invitation, you know that," Jiverny put in. "You've been kind enough in past Turns to invite us to hunt your scrub lands, my lord, where your horsemen can't round up the beasts that wander away from your herds."

"Yes - well - of course - that still stands - you won't find me remiss in my tithe."

"Thank you," Jiverny replied. "I hope that goes for all the Lord Holders, all of you, my lords, and Craftmasters, that you will continue to support the Weyr? This may be a pause in the fight against Thread, but it cannot be the end."

"What about ending it forever?" Lord Viral asked aggressively. "Send your dragons up there - maybe that's where the others went, eh? To destroy the Red Star itself! And maybe they succeeded and that's why Thread won't come again!"

H'ric looked around the table as the other lords began shouting and debating that, and his gaze found Serellim the Masterharper.

"You aren't joining in, Masterharper," H'ric called. "Is that because you already knew this was a Long Interval and did not choose to share the knowledge?"

Serellim sat upright.

"How would I know that, Weyrleader? My harpers are not trained to stare at stars!"

"You found some writings at Fort Weyr, but you never passed on the knowledge," H'ric continued. "Did someone leave behind a letter for a loved one, perhaps? I'm sure they would have been forbidden to do any such thing, but human nature being what it is - did you find information?"

Lord Runanan turned to look at the Masterharper.

"Did you have information, Serellim?"

"Oh, we had already guessed it was a Long Interval," the Masterharper said in an offhand tone, waving a dismissive hand. "There was never any need to worry about it."

"You've had Turns to let everyone else know," Lord Riasalt said indignantly. "I take that very poorly, Serellim, that you didn't at least let me know your suspicions!"

"And I," Master Perera put in. "I've been training men to deal with injuries no one has ever seen, and now you tell me I have a glut of healers to place in holds!"

"You'll not place any with me," Fort said angrily. "All these ideas you have - they aren't recorded from the past, so they are not to be permitted."

The Masterhealer gave an angry snort, and then turned back to speak to H'ric. "In one way, I'm pleased to know Thread is deferred, but like the others, I wonder what you'll find to do in two hundred Turns?"

"Dragonmen will always live on Pern," H'ric replied, gathering up his notes. "We were bred to fight Thread, and that is what we will do. This - Long Interval - is merely one more chapter in the ongoing fight, Masterhealer, and when the Red Star once again pulses in the East, and at that time fills the Starstones to the exclusion of all else, you'll find us ready. And now, if you'll excuse us - we have other concerns."

He turned and stalked out, and Jiverny followed, half seeing Lord Viral crumple up the notes and fling them to one side.

The two riders emerged at Benden in the darkness of night. A light showed at the Starstones where the watchman kept himself warm, and lights glowed from some of the weyrs. Galanath landed neatly on the gold dragon's ledge, and Haveneth followed him down and flipped her wings together.

"Well, lady mine, that didn't go so well," H'ric said as he followed Jiverny into her weyr, stripping off his flying gear.

"I don't know - I thought Keroon was conciliatory about the hunting, and Tillek is mellowing - hopefully because of Yorus."

"Do you want _klah_?" H'ric asked, and she nodded.

"I'll go and fetch it - oh - Mima - you shouldn't have bothered - thank you."

Mima brought in the tray of _klah_ and some biscuits.

"I doubt if those maggoty beasts would have fed you," she said firmly. "And you've flown there and back in a day, setting out from here at some ridiculous hour to fetch them Lord Holders."

"Criss-crossing the continent isn't advisable too often," Jiverny admitted. "Setting off and returning almost at the same time, with Fort so far behind us."

"Hah! And helping them out as well!" Mima said with another snort.

"Yes, but this is the last conclave we'll be offering them that favour," H'ric said on a sigh. "In fact, I doubt if they'll bother to let us know of any future meetings, Mima."

"And why should you be bothered about that, eh? Enough to do to hold this place together, the both of you, and there'll be problems ahead without trying to please them that don't understand dragons."

She kissed his cheek, and Jiverny gave her a hug and they heard her clumping down the stairs, her admonition to get to bed floating back to them. H'ric exchanged a laughing look with Jiverny and helped her undress, and took the brush to brush her hair out, an exercise she very rarely allowed.

"She's right, of course," H'ric said as they climbed into bed. "Enough to do in our lifetimes without any further worries."

"But you will never fight Thread," she said softly. "In all your life, H'ric, you will not do that sole thing you have trained for, learned of, and practiced against. There is no Thread for our lifetimes."

He sipped at his drink, staring into the future.

"I know. Part of me rejoices, because Pern will not be devastated, but part of me - weeps and mourns - because I am a dragonrider and Thread is my enemy."

_- it will come again and others will fight it_

"Galanath says to leave it to others in our future."

"He's right, of course."

_- this is our time to live and we will live in this time and not worry about fighting_

"Our time to live. Yes, and we'll live it in the knowledge that we need to pass on an intact Weyr, and strong dragons, clever riders, to those in the future."

"And the Lord Holders and Craftmasters?"

H'ric shrugged as he put the two mugs to one side and leaned back, Jiverny laying her cheek on his shoulder.

"They'll carve Pern up between themselves, lady mine, and spread out over it like a rash, but I hope - I do hope - they'll allow progress in the way the ancients must have meant it to happen. Surely they never meant us to go backwards through pride or ignorance?"

"I'm sure they didn't. That also, Weyrleader, is of the future."

H'ric leaned and kissed her.

"And this is of the present, Weyrwoman, that we are fated to lead Benden Weyr into peace and hopefully into prosperity!"


End file.
